A Tooth For a Mark
by owlish quagmire
Summary: So, I met this guy with sharp canines, long claws, and an obnoxious smirk... And now he won't go away. Victor/OC
1. Meeting the Cat

Hi guys, this is my first X-men story, so let's see how this goes. Hopefully well. Anyways, nothing belongs to me except me, myself, and I. And Tate. By the by, this is set after X3, but without Cyclops, Jean, or the Professor dying…so…just imagine no one died. It's happier that way. Enjoy.

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I woke up with my marks twitching, swirling over my skin in a fluid manner. Something was happening. Something was up.

I suppose explain all this…well, maybe later.

Jumping out of my dorm-style bed, I quickly crept to my doorway and peeked out. Not a soul in sight. Nor in sound, nor in sense.

Sometimes I think I could be a spy with my mutation. And then sometimes I trip over a plant and think not.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was surprisingly empty for this time at night. Usually at least somebody was up making a rouge sandwich or watching TV, but not tonight.

Ominous, huh?

I chuckled to myself as the mental image of Rouge making a rouge sandwich appeared in my mind…and then got serious as I considered the time just to make sure there wasn't any staff on patrol.

Let's just say Scott, aka Cyclops, could get a little…anal. About curfew.

My marks swirled again slightly, telling me it was approximately 3:43 A.M., way past anyone's curfew in the mansion. I smiled as I stroked one that had travelled onto my wrist, lightly petting the thick black line that seemed to have a life of its own.

They were my mutation, the marks. They told me things, things about the environment surrounding me such as the temperature, time, altitude I was at, even my exact latitude and longitude. Kind of making me like a walking GPS.

However as much as this seemed like a lame power, that wasn't all they did. They heightened my senses, making me see better, smell better, hear better, and even taste better.

I don't know about touching better. That's just weird.

I even got some additional speed from them too. That was nice, especially when sparring with Logan where I needed all the help I could get. To this day I think I've beat him two times out of thirty…Hm.

Got to work on that.

Anyways, my marks were just a part of me. They appeared as a living tattoo on my skin, consisting of a whirling array of dark lines that constantly moved. My arms seemed to be the place they liked to hang out the most, so in public, I basically just wore long-sleeved shirts.

However, this didn't always stop them, seeing as sometimes they got curious and peeked out of my shirt onto my collarbone. Curious little buggers.

So back to the present.

My marks were telling me that something was off. And so I followed wherever they were guiding me, pulling me.

Why not? It's 3:43 in the morning, I'm a seventeen year old curious mutant girl, so why the heck shouldn't I follow my instincts?

So, following the pull my marks were giving me, I snuck into the hallway and stealthily crept towards my destination of which I was uncertain of. I lightened my footsteps as I passed the TV room, seeing that Jones kid there. He was always there, blinking and changing the channels as a late-night amusement.

Sometimes I used the kid as a remote control when I was bored, tapping him on the head when I wanted to flip channels. He always slightly giggled when I did that, a rare thing for him. Then he blinked.

As I contemplated this, I heard voices coming from up ahead and tried to pinpoint the location, using my marks. I focused and found them to be at approximately the entrance hall, or rather just five feet inside the front doors to the mansion.

Huh. Wonder who the curfew breakers were.

As I got closer, I began to distinguish three voices, talking in tandem. All deep, all male.

One of them was Professor X's. Easy. He had this voice that no one else could imitate except for Mystique. Regal, it was. He could be an announcer or narrator if he wanted to be. Hell, he could do audiobooks.

Cocking my head, I determined the second voice to be Logan's. Gruff, demanding, wolverine-ish. That was pretty much Logan.

As for the third voice, I couldn't recognize it. It was…smooth, deep, and had somewhat of a persuasive feel to it. And yet it held similarities to Logan's at the same time, mimicking his tones. I was confused and convinced I'd never met this man before.

However, hearing this third voice only spurred my marks to swirl faster on my skin, showing their anxiousness. They urged me to get closer to the trio, and so I did. I was curious too, despite my arms now looking like a zebra with moving stripes.

The voices soon became distinguishable words. I was in the entrance hall too now, except at the opposite end. I leaped onto one of the tall bookshelves that lined the entire room and slinked along the top of it, getting closer to the three men.

Sometimes I really liked the Professor's design plans.

"He's not staying." I heard Logan's gruff voice growl. "After all that he's done, you seriously think that he won't cause damage here?"

"I resent that, Jimmy. You don't think I can behave around all the frails here? The kiddos?" That was the smooth third voice. My marks, again, amped up a notch in hearing this, and I crawled faster in response.

"Logan," the Professor's voice rang out as I finally crept far enough to where I could see them. "Mr. Creed here has agreed to my terms as I have agreed with his. This is a sanctuary for all mutants, regardless of their history or backgrounds."

I saw Logan snarl, his fists clenching. "He's a killer, Chuck. If you think he'll change, you're an idiot. He shouldn't be around these kids."

The mysterious third man was obscured by a pillar, but I heard him chuckle darkly.

The Professor raised an eyebrow at Logan's behavior. "Mr. Creed also is aware that any violent behavior here involving himself will result in an instant lobotomy. I am not unaware of his history, but I am willing to give second chances. I consider you do the same, especially after the information he's given you."

I crawled on top of the adjoining bookshelves as close to them as I could without being sighted. Luckily, there were stacks of books ahead, so I ducked behind those, letting them hide me from the trio's vision.

I could finally see the third man.

Let's just say tall, dark, and handsome. He was around the same height as Logan, which was pretty darn tall at above six feet, and he wore a long, black coat. Dark, short hair framed his face going down into mutton chops.

I frowned, trying to see more. Only people in the Civil War had sideburns that long, yet he and Logan both had them. Similar hair cut mistakes? They were surprisingly alike.

Yet somehow the mystery man pulled off the idiotic chops. Darn him.

But…I wondered what it would feel like to touch his chops. Rough or soft?

The third man, aka Mr. Creed, abruptly jerked his head up and started sniffing. Sniffing like he knew something was there. Like someone else was there.

Crap.

He narrowed his eyes and kept sniffing the air like mad, turning his head a bit to the side. I really hoped he wasn't as similar to Logan as I thought they were. My body was locked into place, unmoving, in fear of getting caught.

Why did I come here again?

"Got scent of a squirrel?" Logan rumbled. "Or was it the local feral cat?"

Creed scoffed, never letting his nose stop sniffing. He then looked at Logan, smirking at him, showing extended canines.

Interesting.

"If you haven't noticed, runt, we're not alone. It seems we have an eavesdropper in our midst." Creed circled his head to scan the room, grinning with his fangs. "Come out, come out wherever you are, little spy. I won't bite…much."

Crap, crap, crap!

I lowered myself as much as possible behind the books, really hoping they would just think this new mutant was lying or making something up. However, I was curious enough that I still had a peephole in which I could witness what was going on down below.

Professor Xavier raised a hand to silence Logan's growling at Creed's words, staring at the space in front of him. "Tate, I do believe this is the time for you to reveal yourself."

Clearly, the Professor had knew I was here. Obviously. Ugh.

I gritted my teeth silently. So much for my anonymity. I was so totally busted.

A light laugh echoed in my head. _Yes, you could say that._ _Now come welcome our new guest._

The Professor. Oh, how I detested mind readers.

Trying to somehow find a bright side in all of this, I pushed the books out of my way and, as gracefully as I could, I leapt down in front of the trio, landing like a cat on the balls of my feet. At least my mutation was good for something.

"And so she appears." Creed's eyes flickered over me, scanning me from my messy hair to tank top to my trusty Batman pajama shorts. In response to this, my marks swirled a little faster, circulating around my bare arms.

I simply raised an eyebrow, ignoring his once-over.

Whatever, pervert.

"Hi." I said, raising my hand in a lame greeting to mainly Logan and the Professor. No need to acknowledge Creeper Creed over there. No need to acknowledge how he was still staring at me.

No need at all.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Logan looked slightly still ticked off since Creed was right beside him.

I shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

Creed's eyes were still on me. I refused to make eye contact.

"Well," The Professor began. "Shall we get introductions out of the way? This here, as you already fully know, is Victor Creed. He will be somewhat of an aide to instructors in the coming weeks."

I blinked. An aide? Creed looked a bit annoyed with the wording.

"And this," The Professor continued, turning to Creed. "is Tate, a senior here at this school."

What a wonderful introduction.

"No last name?" Creed drawled.

I glared at him. "No."

My marks started to slightly zig-zag around on my arms. I could see them out of the corner of my eye, making sudden turns. Victor's eyes seemed to fall upon them, absorbing their movements. His lips twitched.

"A handshake seems to be in order." Professor X declared, breaking the awkward silence. He glanced at me. "Doesn't it, Tate?" He looked to his right. "Victor?"

I grimaced as Victor grinned. I really didn't want to touch the guy. Really really didn't want to.

I stepped forward hesitantly, while he took a large stride. My hand held in front of me was suddenly engulfed by his own massive one, and I stared at it incredulously. His fingernails weren't even nails, they were more like…claws.

Very sharp. Very pointy. Very dangerous.

I was not going to let myself be intimidated by this cat-man. Sucking in a breath, I turned my face from our hands to look him in the eye. Which turned out to be quite a ways up, since he was towering over my height of five feet four inches.

Huh. I need some pumps.

"Pleased to meet you." He sneered, a sadistic grin planted on his face. His thumb slowly moved to run over my hand and dragged his claw heavily, causing a narrow cut to form, already bleeding out.

Jerk.

I gave a forced smile as one of my marks slithered down my arm to the cut and circled it dizzingly fast, forcing it closed. Healed, no sign that it had ever happened. Let's just say my marks didn't like me being messed with.

"Enchanted."

Victor's eyes narrowed at my display of healing, and his grin slowly changed into a smirk. He looked up and locked eyes with me, slowly licking his lips. "Very much so."

Crap. I had just gotten the attention of a big cat. A very, very, very big cat.

And from the looks of it, he wasn't going to let go anytime soon.


	2. Classroom Showdown

Hi guys, the story continues! Feel free to comment if you feel the need. As always, Tate belongs to me, seeing as nothing else does… So. Let's continue.

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It had been two days since Victor Creed had arrived. Two days since I had witnessed his cat-like claws and fangs. Two days since I'd heard his drawl. Two days since I'd withstood his smirk.

They were a good two days.

The Professor had introduced him over dinner to everyone, presenting him as a guest teacher-slash-aide-whatever and pronounced him to be a godsend, saying that any questions that a student had, they could ask him. Creed, that is.

No one did.

Nope, not after seeing the way he smiled fakely down at them, mocking their insignificance to himself, as he added his fangs just for a little bit of fear. Not after seeing his sharp claws that raked the cafeteria tables with screeching.

No, no one went up to him and asked anything. And I think he was fine and dandy with that.

I, on the other hand, was not fine and dandy. I had a class with him in five minutes.

Self-defense class.

At least Logan would be there… He, after all, was the main teacher.

Groaning, I slipped out of my room and walked to my door.

I really didn't like Victor Creed.

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"Professor Logan," Creed's voice growled out as he paced the classroom and fifteen students within it. "Is indisposed at the moment, making me your teacher for the day."

I groaned internally, hating myself for not skipping class today. Why did I come again?

Creed, at least, looked about as happy as I about the situation. I don't think he liked kids.

"So…" Creed gave us a saccharine smile, looking like he wanted to shove a stick of dynamite down his throat. "What's this class called anyways?"

The room was silent. Was he serious? Did he not even know what he was teaching?

I coughed, hiding a laugh. "Self-defense?"

His narrowed eyes soon locked on me, and recognition bloomed within them.

Crap. He remembered me. I was hoping to hide in the middle of the class, avoiding his weird stare.

"Of course." He smirked as he stalked nearer to me. "How forgetful of me. Thank you for volunteering, Stripes, I needed an example."

I blinked as he grasped my arm and pulled me to the front of the room, setting me a few feet right in front of him.

"Did you just call me Stripes?" I scowled, crossing my arms. My marks were swirling a little faster than usual; they always seemed to when he was around.

He merely widened his smirk at me, ignoring my question. "Now, class, we're going to have a little demonstration on our topic of self-defense. Stripes, here—"

"Tate." I said.

"Will elaborate on how much you frails have actually learned so far by defending herself against a common mutant attack."

"Idiot," I hissed. "This is the beginning of the year. We haven't learned anything yet!"

The whole class seemed to gasp at my words, fearing Creed's reaction.

"Well then," Victor smirked, showing his eyeteeth very plainly. "Guess we'll have a change of plans. Show me what you can do then." His claws lengthened to their full length.

I internally cussed every known curse inside my head. Crap.

Creed crouched as he were about to pounce. "I suggest the rest of you should give us as much room as possible… This won't be a pretty lesson." He grinned as if that excited him, his dark sideburns framing his face.

The rest of the class scampered to the back of the room, huddling into one tiny unit. They were scared out of their minds.

Oh, boy.

I gulped, not knowing what to expect. Was he serious? My mind was so jumbled, and my marks swirled faster than ever, giving me useless information.

The temperature was seventy-three degrees. We were four-hundred and thirty-seven feet above sea level. The time was 10:24 A.M. Someone was wearing way too much Chanel No. 5 in the room.

Without warning, Victor pounced. Exactly like a cat.

Knew it.

Taken by surprise, I was tackled by a God-knows-how-much-he-weighs man, and I keeled over instantly. Tumbling in a ball, I soon, however, used my momentum to throw him off. Hopefully into a wall.

Unfortunately, he was part cat. So he landed on his feet.

Drat.

Snarling, he launched himself at me again, and through the quick calculation of his velocity, I stepped to the side at just the right moment. Thus, making him barrel right past me entirely.

Ha! And he calls himself a teach—

His clawed hand had flown out, flipping me over onto my back, helpless. He loomed over me with a crazy fanged grin, and I knew some part of him had snapped. With a bit more baring of his fangs, suddenly his sharply clawed hand was plunged into my chest. I gasped with shock as his fingers literally wrapped around my heart.

Screams were heard throughout the room. Seems like no one expected this on the schedule today.

I continued to gasp with effort as he didn't let go.

He leaned down toward me, brushing his sideburn against my cheek. "The lesson's not over yet, Stripes."

Anger over took me as I wrapped my legs around his waist and flipped him so I was on top of him now. Snarling with pain, I looked down at him. His eyes were alight with glee, as if he were enjoying all of this.

My marks, as well as my outrage, urged me forward with my attack. Using the last of my strength, I threw my head down at him and bit his throat as hard as I could, hoping to collapse his windpipe.

Groaning in pain, he finally released my heart, allowing my gaping wound to heal. However, as soon as his grip had released, his jaws had clamped onto my neck as well.

We literally had each other by the throat, and God, it hurt.

I could feel every drop of his blood that rushed into my own mouth, and it was disgusting. My mouth soon tasted like copper, but I couldn't release until he did, otherwise… Who knows?

He would kill me? At this point, I wasn't sure.

"Goddamnit, what the hell is going on here?"

A voice from heaven. Logan. Come to save the day at last.

Good. My body could only take so much.

Victor's head vibrated as Logan's fist pummeled into it, finally causing him to detach his teeth from me. I was abruptly picked up, and thrown to the side as I heard sounds of bone crunching from where Creed was.

I wearily opened my eyes to see an enraged, cussing Wolverine beating the hell out of a smirking, bloody Victor Creed. Blinking slowly, I touched my dear throat to discover it had already healed, feeling newly formed skin in its place.

But…there was an upraised part, my fingers analyzed as they traced my jugular region. They followed the raised line around in an oblong oval surrounding my throat.

I had a…scar? But that was impossible, I always healed flawlessly.

I looked up confused, only to lock eyes again with the infamous Victor Creed who traced a similar, yet smaller, scar on his own throat. Logan had stopped his beating of him to check on the rest of the class whom had practically turned into a puddle in the corner of the room.

"So you have one too, Stripes?" Victor eyed my scar curiously as he sat perfectly healed on the opposite side of the room from me. "Fancy that."

"You tried to tear my heart out." I accused him, pointing a finger for emphasis. "What were you trying to prove? How easy it is to kill?"

He merely threw a mocking smile my way. "If I had wanted you dead, you'd be dead. I didn't tear your heart out for a reason, Stripes. That would only serve to frighten the kiddos."

"Well, I think you already did. You're a monster."

"Really?" He crawled a few paces towards me as I scowled. "If I'm so much of a monster, why did I choose the one student in the class that I knew would heal despite anything I gave out? Why did tell the rest of the frails to get out of the way? And why did I let go of that tiny little heart of yours when I could have just yanked it out with a flick of my wrist?"

Why indeed…

By this time, he had crawled up in front of me, crouched out on all fours like a cat. He gazed at me intently before sliding a finger under my chin to tilt my head to the side, exposing my throat.

I swatted at his hand, but he merely ignored my feeble attempt. Despite my words, I was enormously tired after the fight. I had never exerted as much energy like it before, between all the sparring, healing, and blood loss.

I flinched as one of his claws followed the scar his teeth had given me. It didn't hurt, it just…felt odd. My marks, which had been flying furiously all over my body before, now quieted down to a smooth, rhythmic flow.

"Hmmm." Victor mused pensively, still tracing the bite mark. "I think this means the end of my teaching career."

"No shit." I growled, jerking my head down and thus dislodging his finger.

He merely chuckled at my resistance, withdrawing his hand to himself. "You need to work on your fighting skills."

I snapped. "I held you off, didn't I?"

He raised an eyebrow up at that. "You think that was holding me off? I was holding myself back so I didn't tear you into pieces, Stripes."

"Whatever." I scoffed. "Just don't call me that anymore. My name is Tate, FYI."

"I was aware." He drawled, leaning back on the wall beside me. "But it's a stupid name, so I choose not to use it. Your mother must have been very doped up on drugs when she gave it to you."

"She didn't give it to me." I muttered.

Things like this I didn't like to talk about. At all.

Creed gave me a mocking look. "Then I pity the soul who did. It's a man's name."

As if that made his argument all the more justified.

Regardless, exhaustion soon took over me as I leaned my head back against the wall and then closed my eyes in relief.

Such a long day. And then…

It all drifted away.

Unconsciousness was a nice place, but for some reason, I kept hearing purring in my dreams.

How odd.


	3. Cafeteria Chaos

Hi guys, thanks so much for everything! Feel free to express yourself in any means possible…within legal means, of course. Anyways, Tate belongs to me, and nothing else does. Enjoy.

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The day after the 'incident', I found myself having lunch in the cafeteria with Rouge and Bobby. Rouge, after all, was my one of my closest friends in the school, and I'd been the first to show her around after she'd arrived with Logan those couple years ago.

When she had arrived, all shy and totally brunette with completely deadly skin, a lot of the students kept their distance. I had been one of the few who jumped up to her and cried, "Touch me! Touch me!"

Okay, maybe I was a bit more tactful than that…but I was curious. Curious to see what it felt like. After all, I could heal.

Regardless of my bold introduction, we'd been close ever since. Our friendship just…worked. I wasn't afraid of her, and she wasn't afraid of me. Perfect.

"So did it hurt?" Bobby's first question was, as he lightly stroked Rouge's glove-covered hand. "I mean, since you heal so fast and all, did you feel it?"

I gave him a deadpan stare. "Are you seriously asking me if it hurt to almost get my heart torn out?" I turned to my best friend beside him for guidance, silently giving her the is-he-serious look.

I knew Bobby was a good guy, but I just didn't think he was right with Rouge. I mean, he'd taken her back after she'd gotten the cure and all, but his friendship with Kitty was growing onto unreasonable levels.

At least he stayed with her when Rouge got her powers back. That was a hard time.

"Bobby." Rouge sighed, pushing a strand of her white hair out of her eyes. "Tate practically almost got murdered in class. Think about what she's feeling right now."

"Oh." He lowered his blue eyes to the table. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"It's fine." I muttered, swirling my food around on my plate about at the same pace my marks were flowing. "I'm just glad that I'm able to heal as fast as I can, otherwise I would be chopped liver right now. It's not exactly pleasant to get a full set of claws in the chest."

Bobby guffawed, nearly choking on the fried chicken he was eating. Rouge hit him lightly on the head.

"We're just glad you're okay." Rouge clasped Bobby's hand tighter. "You know, he helped Magneto kidnap me a couple years ago."

I frowned, looking up from my plate. "Who?"

"Professor Creed or, rather, the newly fired Professor Creed." Rouge frowned as a dark look came into her brown eyes. "He helped Magneto put me into that machine, and nearly killed Logan and all the other X-men in the process. Back then, he went by Sabretooth."

"He's Sabretooth?" I gaped. I'd heard stories about him, but I'd always imagined him somewhat…hairier.

More monster-y, I suppose.

A slight breeze whisked by my ear.

"Thought I heard my name." A familiar deep growl rumbled in my ear.

Seriously?

My marks sped up, as usual, even going so far as to twirl around my neck.

I was annoyed.

"Really?" I retorted, not even bothering to turn towards him. "Because I don't recall saying 'asshole' in this conversation at all. Huh."

A sharp claw fingered the back of my neck lightly. "Watch yourself, Stripes. I bite."

"So can I." I glared right back at him, visibly eyeing his own scar.

Victor smirked darkly. The tension in the air was palpable.

"I can't do this." Rouge stood up in a hurry, grabbing her cafeteria tray. "I'm sorry, Tate, but I just can't right now."

"Rouge!" I stuttered. "It's fine! I'll make him go away!"

She smiled sadly down at me. "I just need some time. I'll see you at dinner, sugar." And with that, my best friend walked away with a trailing Bobby following her every step.

He didn't even say goodbye, that ice jerk.

Sigh.

Her and Creed in the same proximity brought up too many memories that she didn't want to remember. I got that.

I just wished it didn't have to be that way.

Chuckling to himself, Victor hijacked Rouge's empty seat and sat himself very contentedly upon it. He leaned forward, tracing one claw upon the table, scratching it.

"Seems your friend doesn't like me. Wonder why." He sneered, etching a frowning face into the table.

Why did Professor X let him into this school again? I mean, with the amount of people he upset and annoyed, as well as the amount of property he defaced…Was he really worth it?

I stared at him hard. "Maybe because you helped deliver her to Magneto."

I left it at that. Simplicity is sometimes the best way to go. It's also the harshest.

He widened his smirk to reveal his eyeteeth, a common intimidation habit I found of his. "Oooh, got the whole story, did you? Didn't think it would take you so long, Stripes. I thought you were smarter than that."

I am smarter than that… But I refused to respond, choosing the higher road.

His eyes locked upon my agitated marks, following them in their obscure patterns. He pointed a finger at them. "Why are they moving so much?"

I swear my eye twitched. "Because they are."

So much for the higher road. It was back to childish arguing for me.

Creed raised an eyebrow, still scratching at the table. "That's not an answer."

"For you, it is." I was being snotty now.

In a flash, he used his heightened senses to vault over the table and land straight on the chair beside me, straddling it backwards. Victor rotated it so he was facing me completely, only a few inches away.

"You see," Creed whispered as he traced one of my quick marks with a claw. "I've noticed something about these lines on your skin. All day, they barely move and are as slow as molasses, not in a rush to go anywhere. But the second I show up, they start racing and try to dance off your skin."

His claw dug deeper in my flesh, creating a long, skinny cut that followed the particular mark he was chasing. Ironically, as he continued it forward, some of my other marks trailed behind, healing what he had just damaged.

"So why would that be exactly?" He finished.

I stood up very quickly, dislodging his finger from my arm, preventing any further mutilation.

"Because," I said hotly. "You annoy me. You irritate me. You make my skin crawl, and I hold no respect for you whatsoever. In fact, you disgust me, and I just wish you had never come here in the first place. That's why my marks act that way, _Creed_, because I hate you."

With a blink, he pushed his chair away and stood up to match me, or rather, tower over me.

"You finished?" He drawled. The air-conditioning flapped his long black coat around so he made quite the menacing figure.

Not.

"Never." I narrowed my eyes.

He growled then reached a claw out toward to me, presumably to trace the scar he had made himself, another common habit of his.

He seriously needed to stop these habits. He was getting predictable.

"Don't touch me!" I snarled, and then suddenly lost all sense of anything, as I grabbed his extended arm and used his own momentum to slam him flat on his back onto the surface of another table. For a second, he looked stunned, just lying there, almost confused.

The cafeteria went dead silent. Actually, it was still at 0.5 decibels of sound, but who's counting?

The gleam came back into Victor Creed's eyes as he slowly sat up into a crouch.

What did I just do? What did I just _start_?

He caught my eye, guaranteeing my doom.

Crap in a hat.

He pounced, flying through the air to tackle me back onto our original table. I tried to gain the upper hand by reversing our positions to be on top, but as soon as I flipped us, he had flipped us back again, causing us to become a living barrel roll.

We continued this fight for dominance and soon ran out of table space, making us fall on the floor. Unfortunately, I was on the bottom when this happened.

Using the shock of the impact as a distraction, Creed pinned me beneath him, stopping our rolling cycle. I hissed at him, spitting at his face to which he responded with a full-out roar, definitely more animal than human.

As I struggled to escape, I somehow freed one of my fists and punched him straight in the face.

He didn't look too happy about that. Okay, he was pissed.

To put it lightly.

Snarling wildly, he clamped his teeth around my throat. In exactly the same spot as before, identical to my scar.

I stilled instantly, not wanting the pain of having my jugular torn open again. Victor's teeth were firmly in my neck but not yet puncturing the skin, as if he was making a point. He growled low, and I could feel it through my whole body.

"Stop." I muttered, mentally giving up on the fight.

Creed seemed to sense this. With a languid stretch, he released his bite on me, and looked down at me so our gazes met. Satisfied in what he saw, he bent down and licked my throat slowly, lingering on my scar.

My marks danced all over my body, healing as well as just scurrying. I shivered.

I so didn't like losing.

"Again," A loud roar echoed in the now-quiet cafeteria, "What the _hell _is going on here?"

Oh, Logan. Always a little bit too late.

I shut my eyes, wishing I would disappear as I felt the Wolverine's thundering footsteps grow closer to us. Creed was still on top of me, sneering at the oncoming hero. His coat almost covered me, forming a billowy black tent.

Key word is almost.

"Creed," Logan growled, trying to control himself. "Get off of her. Now."

Victor's fangs emerged as he continued to hover over me. "Make me."

_Stop._

The mental command was telegraphed to the whole cafeteria, making everyone freeze in place. Even Logan and Victor.

_Logan, stand down; the situation is not yours to deal with. Tate and Victor, I want you two in my office immediately. Everyone else may continue about their day._

I groaned audibly, causing Victor to look down curiously. My day couldn't get any worse.

To the Professor's office, we go… I suppose.


	4. Half and Half

Thanks guys for all the support; you're wonderful! As always, feel free to express yourself and say what you want. Tate belongs to me alone. So let's continue… Enjoy.

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"It seems as if we have a problem."

The Professor's voice boomed in his office, practically echoing off the wooden walls. It was not a good feeling.

Victor and I were seated in front of his massive desk in identical, uncomfortable chairs.

I think the un-comfortableness was planned. There was no way someone would deliberately design these chairs to feel as if you were sitting on concrete.

Or was there?

Anyway, the whole situation felt like we'd been sent to the principal's office. A feat I'd never accomplished in my seventeen years of life. And never particularly wished for either.

Seems like I got it now. Urgh…

I squirmed in my seat, a bit from nervousness and a bit from awkwardness. Without planning to, my eyes darted over to my left, to Creed.

Somehow he had squeezed himself into the tiny chair, making it impossible for him to squirm at all even if he wanted to. From the looks of it, though, he wasn't in the squirming mood like me. I frowned, wishing he was more nervous.

Victor Creed looked as relaxed as a cat in a patch of sunshine. His legs were stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, as he leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. His eyes were half closed, as if he were only half paying attention to what was going on.

I was jealous. I wished I could be as blasé as that.

Thinking this, my marks wriggled, as if to relay my irritation at the fact. Once again, useless information came through to my brain. Seventy-seven degrees, we were facing the east, and the time was now 2:35 P.M.

I sighed quietly and squirmed some more. Somehow my eyes were still on Victor.

His eyes instantly flickered from the Professor to me. He cocked his head slightly, his gaze wandering up and down my body. It made my marks tingle.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

Mature? Yes. All the time.

"Victor, Tate." The Professor snapped with a humorous glint in his eyes. "We do have issues to discuss, and it is not likely that they will be resolved if we all stay silent. Please, put forward any comments you might have."

"Why are we here?" Victor drawled, one of his claws mutilating his own chair. Splinters fell to the floor at his feet.

It seemed to be a nervous habit of his. Or maybe just a bored habit.

I lightly face palmed myself at his question. Was he serious? We were on the cafeteria floor fighting like cats and dogs, and he honestly wondered why we were here?

I wondered idly about his intelligence.

"Yes, Tate does have a point." Professor X smiled as he clasped his hands above his desk. Victor glanced at me, confused. "You were both found attacking each other in the cafeteria of all places, in front of approximately fifty other witnesses. That does call for grounds of a discussion, but I find perhaps the root of the problem is more relevant here. Would you two care to guess what this root is?"

I opened my mouth hesitantly. "We don't like each other?"

A statement that had inadvertently been turned into a question. No confidence there.

"And you, Mr. Creed? Any thoughts?"

Victor seemed pensive as he absently scratched his sideburn. "We follow our instincts."

I frowned at that. Me following my instincts? Well, maybe just the urge to slap the smirk off his face half the time…

"A closer answer than most." The Professor looked thoughtful for a second, and then faced us decidedly. "Since you have arrived here, Victor, an observable change of behavior has been seen in Tate, turning her from an entirely rational girl to an instinct-driven mutant that preys upon her every whim."

Creed snickered.

"Hey!" I cried. "That's not fair. He just annoys the heck out of me!"

"It is not my intention to offend you," the Professor said. "Just to clarify these recent events. Anyways, I have reason to believe that your powers, Tate, your marks, are two-sided and are constantly fighting in their natures."

"What?"

"You see," he continued. "Your marks give your external sensory enhancement, as well as extraneous information about your environment. These two traits are conflicting in their natures, as one is instinctual and the other is rational."

Victor growled, still slouched in his chair. "Speak English, frail."

For once, I seconded him. That was a lot of big words in a short amount of time.

Professor X took a breath. "Tate is half feral and half rational. Depending on whom she surrounds herself with, she reflects whatever half is more apparent in her company. For example, when she is with her friends, she is purely rational and logic-driven. However, I've noticed that when she spars with Logan, a known feral, she becomes aggressive and more instinctual, showing her feral side grows around him."

Creed snarled, and literally tore the arms of his chair, throwing them to his left. I vaguely heard them hit the wall as I tried to process all of this new information.

I was…half feral? Practically…half animal.

"But," Xavier tilted his head towards Victor. "There are additional factors, as well, that add to the situation."

"Like what?" Creed gritted his teeth. His hands were now fisted against his sides. I think I saw a drop of blood come out of one of them.

The Professor's eyes gleamed. "Why did you just snarl at me, Victor?"

Creed remained silent. A few more drops of blood dripped down onto the floor.

"Was it because I mentioned Logan…with Tate?"

Victor hissed, a super angry, out-of-this-world pissed off hiss that wanted to make you cover your ears in fear. Or maybe back away into a corner.

I stared at him in confusion. I didn't get what was going on at all.

How would Logan make him angry?

"Why?" The Professor intoned, leaning forward. "Victor, answer me. Why does this make you angry?"

I wanted to know too. I leaned forward on my stupid seat as well.

Snarling hideously, Victor glared at Professor X with all his might, who gave him a knowing gaze in return.

Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Shall I call Logan…?"

"Because she's mine!" Victor roared, leaping out of his chair. He stalked over to the Professor's desk and dug his hands into it, tearing chunks out of it. "And if you think for a second of calling that runt into here, I will rip your spine out of your pathetic crippled body and use it as a toothpick!"

The office was silent. Sound familiar?

"Um, I don't think so." I stood up, kicking the chair behind me. "I'm not property. I don't belong to you."

Breathing heavily, Victor turned to me with a heated gaze. "You don't have a choice. And neither do I."

"That, in fact," The Professor chimed in. "is correct. Both of your feral natures have recognized each other as mates, so that is the reason that you two interact so much on a physical level. It is simply your rational side, Tate, that refuses to accept this fact, making you fight the bond."

"Excuse me." I snapped. "I thought I was born in America, as in land of the free! We all have choices and the freedom to make important choices like this with!"

"Unfortunately," Victor sauntered towards me and put his arm around my lower back, pulling me into him. "Animals don't do democracy." He pressed me harder into him, grinning with fangs. "We like monarchies far better."

I huffed, trying to push him away. "You knew, didn't you? You knew all about this, leaving me floundering in the dark!"

Creed just smashed me to his chest in spite of my resistance. "No, I just followed my instincts. No thinking involved, mate."

"Don't call me that!" I screamed. I attempted to flail out of his embrace. Freaking out was my number one priority right now. Nothing else.

Resting his head on top of mine, Victor whispered. "I'll stick to Stripes then."

I started to almost hyperventilate. "Professor!"

My mind was totally and completely blown. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening.

This _couldn't _be happening.

I _hated _Victor Creed. I couldn't be his freaking mate! It was just so animalistic and crude.

And just so wrong.

"Victor, that's enough." Thankfully, Professor X was feeling generous today. "You're scaring the poor girl, your mate no less. I've already allowed you to stay, despite your loss of a teaching position, so I suggest you be on your best behavior if you do not wish to be kicked out of the mansion."

"Fine." Creed reluctantly let go of me, allowing a few inches between us. I widened it to a foot. "Just don't expect me to be a trained puppy."

"Tate, you may leave." Xavier commanded. "Victor, I need a word alone with you in private."

I scurried to the door, going through it, and then took the briefest of peeks back. My marks were blindingly fast, and Victor's dark eyes were locked upon them. Slowly, he raised his stare to me, and then he smirked. Cocky, with fangs.

"Mine." He mouthed.

I slammed the door shut.

And you have no idea how much I wished his face was in it.


	5. A Rooftop Campout

Hey guys, thanks so much for all the support again! Feel free to express yourself anytime! As usual, Tate belongs to me. And so it continues… Enjoy!

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It's been two days since the Professor revealed that me and Creed were mates.

I refuse to accept this fact. There has to be a law somewhere where this whole situation is illegal and not allowed and stupid and wrong… Sigh. I could maybe try to push the whole me being a minor issue, but I turn eighteen in a week.

And my entire argument would be down the drain, and I would be utterly and totally screwed.

Crap.

After I'd left the Professor's office, I needed some time. And space.

More specifically, I needed Victor-free space.

So I did what I had to do. I hid.

No, not in my room. That would be way too obvious, and the idiotic feral would find me in a second.

No, I went to the place where I came when I was down. I camped out on the roof.

Comfy, you ask? Not especially, but I had brought several blankets and pillows with me, forming a pallet. It was actually quite cozy when I snuggled under all the layers. And thankfully, the past couple nights were rain-free and perfectly clear skies, creating no need for me to go back inside at all.

Yes, I hadn't gone back inside since the revelation. Cowardly, I know, but I just needed some air. Some time…to process, thinking about how to deal with this situation. And to plot.

Future devious strategies required major thinking.

Obviously, I had brought food with me too. Like I was going to starve on a rooftop. That would be even more pathetic.

Cookies, crackers, and chips now made up the majority of my diet. Yum. The three C's.

Sighing, I sat against the nearest chimney, staring at the stars. Since we were so far into the country, you could see quite a few of them, and they were beautiful. I absently wondered what it would be like to be a star.

Ball of hot gas star, not a movie star, mind you.

The soft crunch of footsteps alerted me that I was no longer alone.

"So this is where you've been hiding." A gruff voice rumbled. A large, dark figure approached my spot.

I tensed, fearing the worst. I didn't know if I was ready to deal yet.

Feeling my nervousness, my marks swirled soothingly slow, telling me everything was alright. It wasn't Victor; they would never slow down around him.

"Logan." I breathed in relief. "Thank God, I thought you were someone else."

"Let me guess, a feral someone with bad teeth? Yeah, he's been tearing apart the mansion looking for you. I'm surprised he didn't check the roof yet." Logan sidled up to me, and settled himself down next to me by the chimney, his jeans rustling. "Rouge's been worried."

"I told her where I was going."

The Wolverine turned and gave me a look. "It's more than that. She's concerned. You're hiding out on the roof. Put the pieces together."

"I'm not hiding." I pouted. "I'm just taking some time off. To think about things."

"Look, kid, I know it's hard…" He trailed off.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you, Logan, do you really? Do you know what it's like to be supposedly bonded for life to a sadistic former murderer?" I kept my eyebrow raised expectedly.

"No." He gave me a curt look. "I don't. But I do understand what it's like to have information dumped on you and having to deal with it everyday."

I bit my lip, gnawing on it. "Oh."

We sat there for a minute, looking at the night sky, watching a couple blinking lights fly into the distance.

Silly airplanes. Trying to pretend you're stars.

As if.

"He's my brother." Logan muttered, rubbing his hands together out in front of him. "He told me as soon as he arrived here, showed me evidence from way back when. That's why I've been so…"

"Distracted?" I supplied, internally whirling from this new piece of information. But it made sense; I'd recognized their similarities since day one and kept finding more since.

Still, it was odd to accept.

"Yeah," Logan's face was illuminated in the moonlight. "Distracted."

I sighed, leaning my head against his shoulder. Logan had been the one to find me after my mutation had activated, and somewhat brought me inadvertently to the X-mansion. He'd always been a like a brother to me. "Guess we both have to deal with him then."

A beat passed.

"Well, doesn't this look cozy?" Gleaming eyes emerged out of the darkness, as the bane of my existence stepped into our line of vision. Victor looked slightly haggard and tired, complete with somewhat scruffy, messed up hair. However, the heated look in his eyes practically negated all of this, showing he was still full of fight.

My head quickly shot up from Logan's shoulder. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Now, Jimmy boy," Victor slowly stalked toward us, ignoring me for the moment. "I'm _generously_ giving you five seconds to step away from my mate, walk away, and go back into the house like a good boy before I rip you to shreds." He approached us steadily, his footsteps soundless and his tone poisonous. "Can you do that, little brother?"

Logan slowly stood up, as did I. His eyes flickered between me and Victor, trying to judge the situation.

I gave him a small nod, signaling that it was okay.

Physically, I seemed prepared. Ready to deal.

Except my now racing marks relayed my inner turmoil. Instantly, the extra information came in.

Forty-one degrees. Four-hundred feet above sea level. Wind chill of thirty-nine degrees. 11:48 P.M.

And Creed smelled like woodsy musk.

Internally, I was frazzled. Totally out of my element. Out of my league.

Here goes nothing…

Logan cautiously walked away, vaulting off the rooftop when he reached the edge. With an adamantium skeleton, he didn't have to fear broken bones or death by impact like the rest of us. Oh, well. That's where a feral nature comes in handy sometimes.

We were now alone. Me and Creed.

My stomach churned.

"You've been avoiding me." He said simply. The wind whipped at his trademark black coat, twisting it around him, and I was suddenly aware of how cold it was out here on the roof.

What had my marks told me? Wind chill of thirty-nine degrees?

Egad. I was wearing a short sleeved shirt.

I stared back at him. "I thought it was best that I take some time to think. Freaking out around people normally just…freaks them out."

Creed stepped toward me, stopping about a foot from me. "And why are you freaking out exactly?"

I choked, feeling hysterical. Running my hands through my long brown hair, I felt a little crazy. "You're kidding, right? Why am I freaking out? Why?"

"Yes." Creed quipped.

"Because, because everything I've thought about myself has changed!" I burst out, leaning on chimney while standing. "Suddenly I'm part feral, basically an animal, and then you come along and bam! We fight, don't get along at all, and then a few days ago, the Professor says we're mates!"

I gasped for air and shivered at the same time. "Everything's changed, and I don't know how to deal with it all. Everything's just…different."

And it was. Different.

My life wasn't what it used to be. At all.

Victor's cool gaze ran over me, scanning. He sighed decidedly, growling under his breath. "C'mere."

I looked at him oddly, wrapping my arms around myself. "What?"

Suddenly, his arms were scooping me up, one of them beneath my knees and the other under my back, supporting me. My face was only a few inches away from his.

His woodsy musky smell only got stronger. I gulped.

"What are you doing, Creed?" I mumbled. "Let me down. I'm not in the mood to be messed with right now."

"You're cold." He growled, his sideburns nearly brushing my face. "And my instincts are telling me to make you warm. I'm not ignoring them, so deal with it." Victor made towards the edge of the roof, like Logan had when he left.

"No!" I squirmed in his arms. "No, I don't want to go back inside. Not yet."

I could feel him shrug in response. "Fine then. We'll stay out here." He walked back over to my pallet of blankets and pillows, and pushing them back with his foot, plopped me down on the bottom layer.

I blinked in surprise, wondering at the fact that he actually paid attention to me and did what I said.

He sat down next me, pushing his feet under the covers.

I blinked again. "Isn't this the part where you go back inside?"

Glaring, he yanked the multitude of blankets around us, and then pulled me tight against him.

Very tight against him.

Tight enough that I could his hard muscles beneath his shirt.

Tight enough that I could feel them move when he shifted.

Double gulp. My marks were, of course, swirling happily. Darn them.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelped as he threaded our legs together. Every part of us was now touching the other, and we were facing each other full on. "Creed, this isn't funny. Just leave me alone and give me some space!"

"I _have _given you space." Victor snapped. "You've been on this rooftop for three days, avoiding me, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of looking through every crevice in that damn mansion for you, I'm tired of listening to people for advice, and I'm tired of feeling like I'm about to snap every single second. So excuse me for trying to please my mate, but I am f*cking tired!"

"Oh." I murmured, looking at his chest to avoid his eyes. I suddenly felt bad for some reason.

I cleared my throat. "You've accepted it then?"

"Accepted what?" His arms tighten around my waist. I could feel his claws vaguely through the fabric, feeling them trace patterns into my back.

"Accepted that we're mates." I whispered, not wanting to say it at all. "That it's real."

He hesitated for a second, thinking with his dark brows creased. "It wasn't really an acceptance, I just follow my instincts. And my instincts basically just tell me to be constantly around you."

I was silent, not knowing how to respond to that comment.

During this silence, I fixated on what to do with my hands which were currently pressed up Victor's chest. I couldn't just pull them back, because they were trapped between my chest too…

Biting my lip in indecision, I slowly attempted to slide my hands down his chest, so I could pull them back once I reached his waist.

I really hoped he didn't notice. Stupid, but true.

Gradually, I slid my palms down his pectorals and slowly made my way down his abs, marveling idiotically at many there seemed to be. I had nearly reached the end of them when Victor's hands enveloped mine, halting their progress.

I looked up at his face to find him breathing slightly heavier than usual. "You need to stop." He growled, his eyes glowing. "Whatever it is you think you were doing, stop it."

I gave him a narrowed look. "I was just trying to get my hands off of your chest, Creed. Calm down."

"That's not what it felt like." Victor smirked down at me, showing fangs. "Maybe you would like a demonstration of my perspective on what just happened?"

"No." I growled, snatching my hands back to myself. "I'll pass."

Right now his woodsy musk smell surrounded me in our cocoon of blankets and limbs. It was driving me crazy, and I just wanted to keep the scent in my brain forever.

Groaning, and hoping that he wouldn't mind, I buried my face into his chest, inhaling the scent, and I tried to memorize it for life. If only I could bottle it, then I could smell it whenever I wanted to, my own personal little bottle of joy.

A low vibration rattled through me as Creed chuckled.

"At least this mate-thing isn't one-sided." He said, still chuckling.

"It still is." My voice was muffled, seeing as my face was still buried in his chest, sniffing. "You just smell good for some reason. Don't get your hopes up."

Victor's claws tightened their grip. "Oh, I will, don't worry."

Gently, he rested his head on top of mine and sniffed my hair. Groaning a little, he stopped and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come.

Unknowingly, I closed my eyes at the same time. Somehow, here, I felt completely and totally safe…in the embrace of someone I hated.

Okay, I might change 'hated' to 'disliked', but still…

Imagine that.


	6. Tease me, Kill me

Hey guys, you're awesome! That's for everything. So, keep feeling free to comment, question, or be concerned. Tate belongs to me. Enjoy.

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I am a slow person when it comes to waking up.

I don't know why…maybe it's the feral in me. But, when I wake up from a good sleep, I take my pretty time and don't rush it.

So, as I slowly was brought back to the land of consciousness, I didn't bother to open my eyes; I was perfectly comfortable. My body was at the perfect temperature contrary to the outside temperature. It's a science, you know.

I was cocooned in a bundle of warmth, whereas the outside was a bit chilly.

Forty-seven degrees precisely, my marks informed me lazily. Oooh, nippy.

I never wanted to get up.

For some reason, it seemed like I had a heater under the blankets with me, because my whole front side, my face, as well as a strip across my waist felt like heaven, completely toasty warm. Perfectly warm. Perfectly right.

But heaters didn't belong under blankets, I reminded myself. They were a fire hazard.

The majority of my consciousness brushed this thought away idly. Maybe it was an electric blanket or something.

With these thoughts in mind, I gradually began my process of waking up. Still with eyes closed, I stretched to the fullest, flexing every joint in my body, similar to a lazy cat. Groaning with satisfaction, I held it for a second then released my stretch. I smiled slightly, feeling like this was going to be a good day.

I opened my eyes.

Only to meet a pair of ravenous, familiar gray eyes.

This was not going to be a good day.

For about three seconds, I was frozen in place, trying to absorb the situation.

Victor…was basically cuddling me to his very toasty chest with a heavily muscled arm wrapped tightly around my waist. His scent surrounded me, that idiotic, sweet-smelling musk, and I wanted to strangle him for it. My eyes darted around, catching the other small details.

His thumb was rubbing circles into my back. He was smirking at me. Our legs were intertwined.

And we were under the blankets. Together.

I'm sure if there were any witnesses, I would've killed them. And then blamed their deaths on Victor.

Anyways…back to the present. Let's not explore my murderous urges.

After analyzing and observing this situation, I sprung into action. Snarling, I let my feral side loose as I broke out of Creed's embrace and the cocoon of blankets, and I proceeded to straddle him.

Why, you ask? Dominance. It was key. And I was going to show him who was boss.

Creed remained lying down, his arms now behind his head. This position unfortunately made his biceps look huge. He looked up at me, totally at ease. I could see amusement in his eyes.

I crouched down over him, hissing, as I forcibly turned his head to the side to expose his neck. Surprisingly, he complied, his small little smirk still visible. I growled.

I saw my mark on his throat. _My _mark.

I lunged, baring my teeth. And promptly bit down over the scar, puncturing the skin. I attempted to bite harder than ever before, so hard that I hoped his skin would never heal and he would just have my teeth marks in his neck forever.

And ever. And ever. And ever.

Forever.

A deep vibration ran through me, straight from Victor's chest to me. He was…

Purring?

He could do that?

Releasing my chomp, I slowly sat up to review my handiwork. The wound was nice and deep, but his skin kept healing over it. Fortunately, the scar still remained.

"Feeling a little possessive, are we?" Drawled Victor who stroked his scar with one claw. He had this satisfied look on his that I just wanted to wipe straight off. "That's my girl."

And that's when my human nature kicked in.

I attempted to stand up, attempting to gain higher ground, when abruptly both his large hands were on my waist. Clamping me down to him, making me unable to move.

His thumbs crept just underneath the hem and my shirt, and they rubbed my waist soothingly.

But I was not soothed.

I was annoyed. At myself and at him.

And especially my feral nature.

"I'm not an object for you to play with, Victor. Let me go!" I wriggled.

"Says the girl who just reinforced her mark." He smirked smugly, his fangs poking out. "Don't test my patience any more, Stripes. Save yourself the time and just admit that you're my mate. I'm not holding myself back any longer."

Without warning, he flipped us over. I was now on the bottom with Creed in between my legs, practically towering over me. His sharp eyes watched me closely.

This wasn't good.

"I suggest you back the hell off." I growled, pushing at his chest to no avail. "As if I could ever be attracted to you. Cut the crap, and just go away already!"

"_Really_?" His voice deepened, his eyes locked on mine. "I was wondering when you'd say that. I've been waiting to screw Mystique again for the longest time. She's the best at teasing me, building me up, but she changes shape way too often. So when she tries to shift, I dig my claws deep and just watch her moan until—"

And then my feral nature switched back on, full of possessiveness.

I growled loudly, interrupting his vivid description. Just the thought of him being with another woman made my blood boil. Much less Mystique for that matter.

I wanted to rip his throat out.

I attempted to snap at him with my teeth, hating his guts for making me feel this way.

It couldn't be real…could it?

No. Surely not.

It was just…my feral side.

Victor chuckled, pleased with my reaction. He lazily put a clawed finger in my mouth, tracing my blunt human teeth. I chomped down on it with all my might, wishing I could just bite it all off.

Not so. I merely bit through his skin, making his stupid blood drip in my mouth. He raised an eyebrow as I spat his finger out, remaining content in just watching me rather than speaking.

"Get off." I grunted. Attractive tone, I know.

Gray eyes once again pierced my own. "Your conflicting natures are growing irritating. I suggest you accept the facts, Stripes. You belong to me and to me alone."

He wasn't the only one who was confused here.

He twirled a bit of my hair around his finger, probably tangling it. Curious and curiouser.

Not.

"I'll never belong to you." I stared at him hard, trying to ingrain the message in his brain. Maybe I could become telekinetic and literally write it on his cerebellum or something.

"Tell me," He switched topic suddenly with a gleam in his eyes. "When you woke up, how did you feel this morning?"

I blinked.

I had felt wonderful, like taking on the world.

Like hell I was going to admit that.

I frowned. "Horrible."

Yeah, and that was a horrible lie.

His smirk widened, his claw now tracing my jawline. "Oh, and I suppose your morning was so _horrible _that you just needed to do that delicious little stretch to make your day slightly better, didn't you?"

I paled. He had been awake the whole time. And seen me.

Crap…

I twitched in embarrassment, and my marks darted around me to elaborate upon the point. He had _seen _me.

I turned red against my will. Stupid blushing.

Victor looked like a predator that had caught his prey. His shadowed eyes bore into me, and his claw stroked my neck. "Do you want to know what it felt like, Stripes, to watch?"

I just stared, frozen, up at him. I had no idea of what to say.

"Actually, I think I'll just show you." Creed purred, suddenly sitting himself up, and he shrugged off his long black coat. He was still sitting between my legs, so I quickly drew them closer to me, correcting the situation. I sat up as well.

Perfect. He didn't have a grip on me anymore. Now I could run—

Gripping his hem, Victor took off his shirt.

My eyes widened, and all my plans of escape flew out of my head in an instant.

I stared blatantly at his chest. Muscle, hair, and lots of skin. That's all that I saw.

He was…

I can't describe it.

For the first time, I saw the ridges of his muscles that I had unknowingly felt up last night. I swear my fingers twitched. My mate was just too attractive for his own good.

Wait…_WHAT_?!

As my mind was struggling with my thoughts' implications, Victor had inched closer to me. Smirking, he wordlessly grabbed my hand and put in on his chest, over his heart. I could feel it beating.

Actually, I could hear it beating too. It's thumping somehow sounded familiar.

Like…

My own.

Oh God, our heartbeats matched.

Victor looked up at me the moment I had my realization. He had heard our hearts in sync the whole time.

My mind was scrambling for a foothold on reality, whereas another part of me was roaring in approval. I was just so…confused. I felt like my whole self was fighting and I didn't know which side I belonged to.

Hell, it was frustrating. I had no idea where I stood.

I snatched my hand back, clutching it to my own chest.

What was I _feeling_?

"Nice trick." I stuttered, standing up. Creed stood as well, frowning. "You almost got me."

He cocked his head at me. "It wasn't a trick, Stripes. It was us."

I just looked at him.

Lost.

Not convinced.

I'm sure my face showed it.

He snarled abruptly, snapping. Whipping a clawed hand out, he punched one of the chimneys, shattering it into a thousand pieces. His hand was bleeding, but it didn't stop him from proceeding to the next one and doing the same damage.

He raged, he groaned, he pummeled, channeling his anger. Bricks were flying everywhere as the mansion's chimneys were under attack.

"Creed, stop!" I yelled. "You're being idiotic!"

Growling lowly, he continued his rampage, his fists alternating between torn bloody and healed skin.

I ran after him, feeling the need to. "Victor!"

He whipped around, baring his teeth at me. Completely off his rocker. Blood dripped off of his hands, and his face had small cuts that slowly healed on it.

"Leave me!" He roared. "Get out of my sight!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, crossing my arms. I was feeling very contrary.

"No."

His lip curling, Creed sneered at me. Guess his affectionate half wasn't present anymore. His hand grabbed my throat, wrapping around it tightly, almost choking me.

I tried to gasp for air as he slowly raised me in the air, my feet no longer touching the ground.

"Have it your way." He growled.

It was then that I looked down and became aware of how close we were to the edge of the roof. We were at least ten stories up, and the ground looked too far away. My marks told me that we were at an altitude of around one hundred and ten feet.

And guess what?

He threw me off the roof, that bastard.


	7. Trapped in a Memory

Wow, guys, you really are awesome! Thanks for everything! So feel free to express your questions, comments, and concerns. As usual, Tate belongs to me. Enjoy!

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I didn't land on my feet, I'll have you know.

Apparently my feral nature didn't extend that far.

I'm not as catlike as _him. _

So, as a result of Creed's throw, I had landed at approximately a speed of ninety-eight miles per hour straight onto my right shoulder, hitting the concrete driveway. I had heard a lot of cracks and pops in my body.

Needless to say, this hadn't been one of the happier moments in my life. A lot of painful healing had to occur.

A million hateful thoughts had run through my head, mainly scenarios involving me decapitating Victor in a plethora of ways.

Yeah, not a pretty time for me.

Let's move on.

It was now the next day, and I'd taken the initiative to go back to my classes and continue on with my life. Screw Victor and his mate issues. He threw me off a roof.

I had justification.

I'd seen Creed a couple times today when I was passing through the halls. The first time was when I was on my way to Professor X's class; he had just emerged from the doorway and was going the opposite way. We locked eyes briefly. He had gritted his teeth and paused, hesitating.

I had kept on walking, brushing past him. Like I'd give him the light of day.

I don't think so, Bucko.

The second time I was talking to Rouge in the cafeteria, complaining about how much concrete hurt after hitting it at such a high speed. Rouge had laughed, and I had just whined some more, and my eyes darted a glance toward the balcony above us. It had been just instinctual.

And there he had been, leaning over the railing, looking down at me. His eyes again had pierced mine, and he just stared. His fingers were interlaced.

I could see they were twitching.

Immediately, I gave him a blank stare in return and turned back to Rouge, dragging her out of the room. She didn't ask a reason, and I didn't give one.

I'm sure she got the gist.

That had been a couple hours ago. Now I was on my way to Logan's class, more commonly known as a Danger Room session. It was a place full of violent aggression, seeing as everybody was free to use their powers as they pleased. There was a mission that had to be completed, but Logan always allowed us to fool around for a bit before.

This being said, I was excited.

It was a big opportunity to blow off some of pent up steam. Saying I was stoked was an understatement.

I was looking forward to punching something. While picturing Creed's face on it, of course.

Wink.

Smiling widely, I jumped into the elevator and pressed the 'three' button. Logan just better watch out or I'd pummel him too. The elevator doors closed in front of me.

There was no music. Never had been.

I'd always thought we needed a theme song around here.

I leaned against the back of the elevator as it lurched upwards, gripping the bar behind me. My knuckles creaked as my fingers tightened their hold. Small spaces got to me.

I mentally began to sing The Star-Spangled Banner. My fingers were now strangling the bar.

I tapped my foot.

And with a flicker of the lights, the elevator stopped. My heart was pounding as I waited for it to open its doors. Any second now…

The doors didn't open. The last number displayed on the tiny screen was two.

Gulping, I stretched forward and pressed the 'open doors' button. And again. And again.

And again.

Nothing happened.

The lights flickered again, for longer now. I was starting to sweat.

"Come on." I muttered, now pressing the emergency button. "Work, work!" I pressed the button harder.

And harder. And harder.

Until it broke, in fact. Idiotic little piece of plastic.

And that's when I began to scream at the control panel.

"You stupid buttons!" I screeched, scratching at them. "Work! _Work_! Open the freaking doors! _Open_!" I started to kick the wall of the elevator in front of me, frantically striking out at it.

It _had _to open.

Kick.

It _needed_ to open.

Kick.

It _must _open.

Kick.

I stepped back, panting.

"Let me out." I whimpered, slowly sliding down to the floor. "Please."

I huddled in the corner, resting my head on my knees. My arms were wrapped around them.

The lights did the flickering thing again.

Flashes were coming back. This hadn't happened in a long time. Memories were surfacing, and I didn't want to remember them.

Where was the Professor? Why hadn't he heard my screams? Shouldn't he have sensed something?

I huddled deeper into myself.

Where was Victor?

The memories were lapping at the edges of my mind, slowly creeping in. Pictures flooded my mind despite my attempts to push them back.

Black lines.

A glint of light.

A sound.

Blackness.

Wood beneath my fingers, the grain flowing endlessly. Splinters everywhere.

Panic.

I groaned, holding my head. This couldn't be happening. It was all because of this elevator! It was too small.

Memories overtook me again, more fluid and coherent this time.

It was my mother, blonde-haired, cooking on the stovetop with her back turned to me. She was stirring soup. I was sick. It was for me.

"Mom." I said, padding over to me. "Mommy, look."

I held out my hand in which tiny black lines traced over. They moved like caterpillars, squiggly and random.

She didn't look. She didn't say anything.

"Mommy!" I waved my hand. The lines were getting longer by the minute. They were speeding up, along with my emotions.

Her back was turned decisively. It was almost if she never heard me.

The memory changed suddenly, plunging me into darkness, into panic.

Wood chips, splinters, pricks of blood, bloody hands.

Darkness.

Tears.

I was almost hyperventilating now. It was too much. I'd spent too much time repressing these to let them get the best of me.

Waves of hysteria washed over me.

I just wanted…

Victor.

I needed him.

Now, at least.

I whimpered again, feeling pathetic. The elevator seemed to be closing in on me; its walls were shrinking. I felt trapped and helpless.

The darkness was crushing me.

My fingers tingled, as if splinters were in them.

Panic was rising within me.

I was breathing hard and tried to pace it.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

The elevator creaked. Metal groaned.

I stopped breathing.

Higher up, the gap between the two elevator doors widened. Metal was groaning and protesting again in reluctance. The gap continued to grow, stretching out all the way to the sides.

The doors were fully opened, though they only left a space of four feet high. Clearly, the elevator had stopped in between floors.

I froze, tucked in my corner.

A figure slid through the opening and landed on the elevator floor.

My marks sped up, winding speedily around my upper arms.

Victor loomed above me, staring down at my pathetic self. In an instant, he kneeled down to my side. He pushed a piece of my messed up hair behind my ear.

"You called?" He cupped my face in his hands, his claws harmless.

I blinked. He had heard me? Or rather, felt me call to him instinctually?

The bond was getting deeper. I was sure of it.

At this moment I couldn't get myself worked up about it. Right now it just felt…right.

Complete.

I sighed.

Not answering his question, I simply buried my head into his chest. His scent, his heartbeat, his warmth were all…him.

Victor stiffened for a second in surprise, but then relaxed, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down my back. "Let's get out of here, Stripes."

Gently, he picked me up bridal style, and somehow maneuvered us out of that hellish elevator. I didn't look to where we were going; my head was still in his chest. Air was rushing around us as he walked to an unknown destination.

"I didn't need your help." I mumbled. "I was…fine."

Victor grunted in response. "My instincts are telling me you're far than fine."

"Screw your instincts."

I felt him lean his head towards me. "Then screw your human nature. I'm tired of it."

I shifted my head slowly to position it towards his arm as opposed to chest. Annoyed, I proceeded to bite his exposed bicep. He had been wearing no infamous coat and short sleeves today. A rarity.

Practically asking for it.

He growled lowly in contentment. His muscle flexed beneath my teeth.

I frowned and released my bite, realizing I had just proven his point.

Darn.

Creed shifted me as he opened an unknown door with one hand. Accomplishing this, he stepped inside, shutting it behind him. With a little effort, he tossed me into the air.

And I landed on a bed.

Surprise, surprise.

The whole room smelled of him, though it looked like a generic X-mansion dorm room. Okay, well, except for a few claw marks, a broken table leg, some dents in the wall, and a shattered lamp.

It was clearly Victor Creed's room.

I huffed and turned to him, who had gone to sit on a chair on the other side of the room. "At least I have a bed to land on this time. Can't say last time was pleasant."

Menace was heard clearly in my voice.

For the record, Victor grimaced a little then went back to his undiscerning stare. "You survived, didn't you? No mate of mine would die from that fall; I wouldn't allow it."

I narrowed my eyes dangerously. "Huh. Might have to do some testing of my own then. See if you're up to par, Creed."

"Oh, I can assure you I'm up to your standards." He smirked and twiddled his claws along the armrest. "But enough distracting. What was that about, in the elevator? And I suggest you don't lie to me, because I'll know."

Ergh, that's exactly what I wanted to do. Lie.

I busied myself idly by messing with his black comforter. Ignoring seemed to be the best route.

"Stripes…"

I stood suddenly. "Look, I just think I'll go—"

"Unless you want to have this conversation pinned down, I suggest you sit down." He rumbled ominously. His presence seemed to fill the room.

I considered running for a second. But that would just lead into a chase, and I was already exhausted from the elevator incident. Besides, he wouldn't stop anyways.

My situation felt hopeless. I sat back down, mad at being tired once again. It seemed like Victor got to me more when I was tired.

"Well?" Victor growled. "Speak."

"I don't want to talk about it." I went with the generic teenage answer that felt like it truly reflected my angst. It was lame, but it worked.

Sue me.

No, don't. Nevermind.

Creed lowered his eyes dangerously. "Did I say you had a choice in the matter?"

"Did someone suddenly place me into your custody? Because you're kind of coming off like my father."

"I am your mate!" Victor roared, outraged at my comparison. "It's my business to know these things about you."

"It's _none _of your business."

"You _are _my business." He finally stood from his chair and started to step towards the bed. "And you need to realize that this mate thing is real."

He reached the edge of the bed. "I am _real._ I've lived since before the Civil War, and I am _never _going away, a fact that seems to escape your little skull every time you run from me.

Victor tapped my head condescendingly. I swatted his hand away successfully.

"I don't have to accept this." I muttered. "I have a choice, you know."

"What you don't realize," Victor growled, "is that I'm never going to stop. Even if you do make your _choice_, I'll still be there, Stripes. I've already made mine."

My fingers curled into his sheets. Impossible.

My whole life seemed to be forever entwined with his.

It made me antsy. And nervous.

And slightly claustrophobic.

It couldn't be true…

"So." The large feral climbed onto the bed, sitting right in front of me. His gray eyes glinted. "What's with you and elevators?"


	8. Opening Up

Hey guys, you're awesome! So feel free to express yourself thorugh question, comment, or concern! As usual, Tate belongs to me. Enjoy!

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I squirmed as Creed's gaze was pinned on me. He wasn't even touching me, and it was uncomfortable.

He just stared at me with those idiotic gray eyes. Not blinking.

I'd never enter a staring contest against him. I know I'd lose.

Horribly.

"I'm waiting." Victor murmured. His claws were messing with his bed sheets which seemed to be twisting around both of us.

Trust him to never make his bed.

But then again, neither did I.

"It's not that easy." I groaned, looking away from him. "It's a long story. I just…don't know how to start."

"By speaking." Cue blank stare.

I glared at him. "Thanks for the advice. Now I definitely know what to say."

"Fine." He grumbled, scooting a bit closer to me so that only a foot of space was between us. "I'll _tell _you where to start. Why are you scared of elevators?"

My marks jerked in response.

"Because I don't like small spaces." I looked down at his comforter, not wanting to meet his eyes. I felt like my voice sounded…little.

It was a weakness, and I was telling him it. Practically giving him ways to torture me.

Hopefully, he wouldn't.

A claw slid under my chin and yanked it up, making our eyes meet. His gray ones bored into my own green ones.

He raised an eyebrow. "Look at me when you're talking, Stripes."

"Why?" I mumbled.

His claw gradually left my chin, going back to knead his sheets. "Let's me know what you're thinking. Now, why are you afraid of small spaces?"

I paused and clenched his comforter in my hands. I didn't want to bring back those memories again; they'd nearly given me a panic attack in the elevator. How would I keep it together here if I started talking about it?

"Small spaces, Stripes. Focus." Victor growled, his own fists balling up sheets in response. My stress stressed him out.

How ironic. And he didn't even know why.

Overwhelmed, I tugged my knees out from under me and hugged them close, shielding me if anything. It was always the emotional stuff that was the hardest for me, not the physical.

Emotions were…complex. Finicky. Hard to describe.

"When I was twelve," I began as my marks zig-zagged. "I got sick. Really sick. My parents thought I just had a bad case of the flu, but…"

I trailed off, then traced a finger down one of my marks. "That's when I got these."

Creed was silent, absorbing my every word. Alert.

Ready to pounce if need be.

I hesitated.

"And how did your parents react?" Victor growled, already guessing the answer.

"Not well." I admitted, still following the same mark. "My mom and dad reacted in different ways though. My mom simply ignored that I was a mutant and pretended everything was normal but my dad…"

"He what?" Another growl.

I pursed my lips, fisting the comforter again. Victor really needed more color in his room; it was drab. "My mom was the first to find out since my dad was on a business trip, so it was a few days after I'd gotten my mutation that he actually saw it."

I took a breath, bracing myself. "So when he finally got home, I was so excited that I ran over to meet him, and he flipped out. He only took a look at my marks to know what was happening, so he reached into his pocket and told me how I wasn't his daughter, and…"

"Stripes." Victor hissed in anxiety. "Finish."

I twisted my fingers angrily. "He took out his pistol and shot me point-blank in the forehead. Happy now?"

"Not quite." Victor gently stopped my hands from digging into the bedspread and wrapped them in his own. "Your story neither explains your healing ability nor your fear of small spaces. You're skipping a part. Don't hold out on me."

I huffed, furious.

He was too observant for his own good. Too smart. Too perceptive.

Too…

Ergh.

I pulled away my hands from his. Creed tried to snatch them back repeatedly. "When I woke up, it was dark so I didn't know where I was. So I felt around and discovered what they did to me… They buried me in a freaking coffin."

Victor stilled, forgetting his quest for my hands.

I continued. "It took me a whole day to claw myself out of that thing and dig myself out, but I did it. And then I had to dig splinters out of my hands for weeks after that, but…yeah. A few days after that I ran into Logan, and he somewhat pointed me in the way of a safe haven for mutants, so I ended up here. The end."

"You survived." Creed looked at me oddly, some emotion swirling in them. "That's all that matters."

"Is it?" I questioned doubtfully.

"Yes." He purred. "Because only a mate of mine would've survived something like that. That's why you're mine, Stripes. We're survivors."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Okay, your turn, Sabretooth. Why—"

Victor abruptly was in my face, snarling. "_Do_ _not call me that._"

His face was too close to mine. It was to the point where we were breathing the same air.

Ick. But…

There was his scent again. Darn him. He smelled way too good.

"Why not?" I didn't back down from the challenge and didn't move my head. "Everyone else can if they want to. How am I different?"

"Because you're my mate." He said simply.

Like that answered anything.

Not.

I needled him. "And?"

His eyes widened. "Did you just accept that we're mates?"

"What? No!" I stammered, jerking my head away from his. "I was just asking what other reason there is that I shouldn't call you Sabretooth!"

"You're _lying_." A smirk started to form, framing his stupid eyeteeth. He crept closer to me on the bed, crowding me against the headboard. He soon hovered above me. "You did accept it."

"No." I growled. "I didn't!"

"Yes, yes, yes." Victor was now straddling me, practically sprawled out on top of me. He tipped up my chin again, exposing my scar. "Yes, you did."

I flailed around but he was too heavy. "I did _not!_"

His jaws closed around my scar.

I tensed. He was going to bite, I knew it.

With a low rumble, Victor drew back and kissed my throat.

A lightning bolt of something shot through me.

_What _was _that_?

Creed leaned back and appraised my reaction. I think my mouth was gaping.

"Better close it." He grinned. "Otherwise I might do it myself."

That's when I went a little feral. Okay, a lot.

Snarling, I tackled him backwards so now I was on top. Still snapping, I started to bite at his own throat, trying to tear it to pieces. My nails, at the same time, were trying to rip his chest to shreds.

I was full of an energy I couldn't destroy, and I had to direct towards him.

I just _had _to.

Unfortunately, he was wearing a shirt.

So, well…

I tore it off.

I mean, it was pretty thin anyways. Why not?

Victor groaned as I tore my nails all over his chest. His arms wrapped around me and…

Pulled me tighter?

Why wasn't he pushing me away? Wasn't he in pain?

I wanted to make him in pain!

I blinked and leaned away to survey his expression.

His gray eyes were glinting as he stared back at me, his expression full of…

Lust?

"Don't stop, Stripes." He rumbled sexily. Wait…sexily? "We were just getting to the good part."

I was so confused.

Not attempting to understand Victor's weird turn-ons, I plopped myself down on my abdomen.

"Why can't I call you Sabretooth?" Might as well go back to my original question.

He sighed, annoyed with my mood swing. "Sabretooth was my name for a different era. Times have changed, and I've changed. It doesn't fit anymore."

"You're leaving something out." I waggled my finger at him, teasing. "Don't forget I can read you just as well as you can read me. What else?"

He grunted in frustration. "I just don't want you to see me that way."

"What way?"

Victor twisted his head to avoid my eyes.

Familiar much?

Oh no, we've played this game before, mister.

I grabbed his chin and jerked it into place.

"Look at me when you're speaking, Victor." I said in my most mockingly, babyish voice I could muster. "I want to see those pretty little eyes."

If looks could kill, his would've burned me to bits. Kinda like Cyclops.

Woah. I guess Scott really could have looks that killed though.

"I don't want you to see me like everyone else does." Victor twitched under my gaze for once. "They see me for the things I've done in the past, and I could care less about what they think but…"

"But?" I encouraged.

What a reversal of roles.

Creed put his hands on my hips. "I care about what you think. Of me."

For some reason, I felt the need to answer his unspoken question.

Odd. Maybe my marks were compelling me.

"Well," I stroked my chin in a thoughtful manner. "I think you're an obnoxious, arrogant jerk with a strong tendency towards violence and bugging the hell out me, complete with brother issues." I paused. "But whenever you're around, things are more…vivid, I guess. Vibrant."

Victor looked smug. There was no other word to describe it.

He flipped us over suddenly.

"So I make things vivid, do I?" He purred, his face mere inches from mine.

His scent was almost entirely mixed with mine now.

Too close, too close!

I immediately put my hand on his face, squashing it. "Don't get excited, Creed. I'm not your mate."  
He merely hummed happily in response.

Did he even just hear me?

Whatever.

Weirdo feral.


	9. The Challenge

You guys are awesome as usual! Sorry, I just started back at college so updates might have a slightly longer wait, but I'll do my best. Feel free to express yourself through questions, comments, and concerns. Tate belongs to me. Enjoy.

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I whipped my long brown hair up in a ponytail, tightening it with extra strength.

You know what they say…A strong ponytail leads straight to a strong mind.

Heh.

God knows the last thing I needed was for it to fall out.

Straightening my white wifebeater, I observed myself in the mirror, feeling ready for battle.

For war.

I was all decked out in workout clothes: tank top, shorts, awesome neon blue tennis shoes…

I had it going on, yo.

Word.

Okay, I'm stopping.

Practicing my sneering face, I curled my lip in the mirror. "Hey, the name's Tate, and I'm gonna kick your ass, bitch."

Epic, yeah?

Immediately, that brought on rounds of laughter. And more until…

A knock on my door.

"Tate?" Rouge's voice called out. "You ready yet? It's time."

Always punctual, that one.

"Coming!" I gave myself one last look in the mirror and winked for confidence. It came out looking like one of my eyes was having a seizure. Maybe my eyes were epileptic.

I gave up on winking. It was a lost cause.

Rushing now, I barged through the door to find a suited-up Rouge, clad in a black velour tracksuit with matching gloves. She was also wearing a Yankees baseball hat. Classy.

"You remember what we talked about?" She asked, as we started to walk together towards the entrance of the school. Kids darted out of our way as we strode forward. "The moves we went over, the strategies we put in place?"

"I remember, Rouge." I swished my ponytail as we walked, feeling superior to all those who were without awesome hairstyles. They were clearly missing out. "We trained nonstop for the past three days, how could I forget?"

"Just checkin'." She adjusted her hat in anticipation. The front door was in sight.

"By the way," I chimed as we neared our destination. "You're a brilliant coach. Just thought I'd let you know."

She smiled widely back at me. "Thanks, sugar. I did my best. You were a great too, as well, grasshopper."

"You're only older than me by five months! Why am I a grasshopper?"

"It's a sensei-thing." She shrugged. "You don't understand. Besides, we'll technically be the same age in a few days since it's your birthday."

I grinned widely. "I know."

We reached the door and stopped. Rouge turned to me, deadly serious.

"Do you recall Plan X that we talked about?" She said.

"Yes…" I grimaced, thinking of the plan. "But I'm not going to need it. I'm strong enough."

She raised an eyebrow. "It's your last resort, Tate. Just know that it's there to use. You can pull it off if you really try."

"Fine." I said and then faced the wood paneled doors. "I'm ready."

My best friend grinned and hugged me tightly, breaking her coach persona for a second. "I love you, and I believe in you. You're going to kick his ass. Now go get'm, tiger!"

The doors opened…and we were out!

Instantly, the large green front lawn practically blinded us upon arrival. The day was bright, sunny, and expectant. I smelled winning in my future.

Yay.

A crowd of students was already gathered in the green, surrounding a crudely drawn-up circle in the middle. Excitement was in the air. My marks were happy and pumped up.

I like to think that they were dancing a jig right now.

Well, according to their jig, it was an abnormally warm seventy-two degrees with clear skies, approximately four-hundred and ten feet above sea level, a noise level of sixty decibels, and a time of 12:57 P.M.

A familiar scent was in the air. My head jerked toward it.

And in my sight was my rival, my nemesis, my challenger.

Victor Creed.

He was stretching over about one-hundred feet away, wearing almost an identical outfit to mine. Wifebeater, basketball shorts, and tennis shoes.

Except his wifebeater was black.

Figures.

He smirked tauntingly at me across the field. And I swear he winked.

I want to be able to wink, darn it!

Full of energy, I walked towards the ring, brushing through the crowd of mutants, and stepped inside. Victor, likewise, had made for the ring and entered at the opposite end.

It was on.

"You ready for this, Stripes?" He mocked, flexing his muscles in plain sight. I caught a glimpse of his scar. "Because I don't think you can take me."

"Really, Creed?" I sneered. "How'd you get that scar on your throat?"

The crowd 'ooohh-ed' in response. Cool.

"How'd you get yours?" He growled back, bristling. He was shifting side to side in anticipation.

"Kid." A gruff voice spoke. I turned to see Logan, still dressed in his trademark jacket despite the warm weather. "Just remember his weakness. You'll do fine." He put his hand on my shoulder comfortingly.

I smiled back at him. "Thanks, Logan—"

"Don't touch her, Jimmy." Victor's snarl carried ominously. "She's mine."

"No." I shrugged Logan off and turned back to face my opponent in the ring. "You're all mine, Creed."

Victor grinned with fangs in return. He was out for blood.

The bell dinged, signaling the start of the round.

Here goes round one.

I suppose I should explain.

The day after I'd spilled my guts to Creed, he'd been bugging me constantly, just doing random, idiotic things. Things like getting real close and whispering in my ear, like wrapping his arms around me sporadically, like playing with my hair.

Annoyed, I'd finally had enough when he nipped my ear in front of the whole cafeteria at lunch.

So what did I do? I issued a challenge.

More specifically, I issued a challenge that I could whoop his ass in fighting. He accepted, of course, with a smug smirk on his face. The whole cafeteria heard this, and, naturally, spread word all over the school, escalating it into a big event.

One that everyone was waiting for. I even heard some teachers were betting on us.

Logan told me personally before that he put money on me. No pressure.

None whatsoever.

There were three rounds, winner of best two out of three won the challenge.

I was pumped. Rouge and I had been training for this for the past three day. Hard core training.

I, Tate, girl made of marks, half feral, was ready.

I would so beat Creed's ass.

So, as I was saying, the bell dinged.

First round here we go.

I jumped on the balls of my feet, bouncing. Waiting for his strike.

Creed smirked amusedly at my jitters, and lunged to the left, feinting at the last second, and then headed for my right side.

Luckily, my instincts had informed me of his plot. My right struck out just as he came upon me and hit him straight in the solar plexus. Victor huffed, losing air, but still managed to barrel into me through mere force.

We both went down, and I used his windedness to my advantage by staying on top. I quickly put my hands around his throat, trying to strangle him. The round would end when one of us was down for a count of three.

"One…Two…" I gritted out, trying to hold him down. "Th—

He threw me off, tossing me to the side, as he leapt up.

"It's not going to be that easy, babe." He grinned. I leapt up as well, keeping a good eye on him.

Darn! I almost had had him!

I darted to his right side for a kick. My leg went flying out and then…

Was caught by a smug Victor himself.

Crap.

"And that was your first mistake." Victor whispered, wrapping his fingers tightly around my foot. My bones felt like they were going to crack.

With a wink, he whipped me into the air and slammed me face down into the grass. My nose had broken, and all the bones in my body rattled from the impact.

I attempted to get up shakily, but Creed's foot was pressed firmly on my back, keeping me down.

"One…Two…" He crossed his arms snarkily as I wriggled beneath his foot. "Three."

The bell dinged. Round one was over. The crowd was screaming, some in support, some in 'booing' and some just to scream.

Victor was the winner. Of this round, at least.

I groaned into the grass, letting it muffle my frustration. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A hand dragged me up by the back of my shirt, pulling me up straight.

"You can still give up, you know." Victor offered sneeringly, as if he was being generous. "You'd be saving yourself some pain. Besides, we all know who's the stronger one of us anyway. Everyone knows who wears the pants in this relationship, Stripes."

I growled angrily as my nose healed with a crack. Blood was coating my face. "Never."

Creed smiled sadistically in response, taking a finger to wipe some blood off of me. "Good. I like it better when you fight." He put the bloody finger in his mouth to suck it off. "But I can already taste victory."

"Go screw yourself!" I spat, yanking myself out of his grip. I started to walk to my designated side of the ring.

"I'd much rather like you to." I heard Victor murmured. I refused to turn around and give him a reaction.

But inside, I was hissing mad. My feral side was now in control.

We stood at our separate sides, waiting for the bell. I caught Logan out of the side of my eye looking concerned. He wouldn't have to anymore. Not after this round.

The bell dinged. Round two had begun.

I didn't waste a second, and I sprang into action, sprinting towards Victor. Anticipating my attack, he ran toward me as well, his fangs apparent. We were one second away from hitting each other when I slid to the ground, knocking his feet out from him.

Creed fell, and landed hard, straight onto his face.

See how that feels!

Quickly, I jumped up and straddled his back, punching him in the face as hard as I could. He roared and sprang up, but I hung on with one hand as he attempted to throw me off.

My other hand was clamped around his neck, feeling the vertebrate. Victor swung to the side, catching one of my legs, but I'd hooked the other one around him.

Trying to stay as steady as possible, I grabbed his neck with both of my hands and jerked violently to the side to hear a loud snap. Creed collapsed instantly, and I hopped off of him daintily.

"One…Two…Three." I said happily.

I'd just broken Victor Creed's neck.

He was not going to be a happy camper when he woke up.

The bell dinged. I was the winner of this round.

Victor came to with a twitch. Groaning, he sat up and cracked his neck back into place.

And that's when he spotted me. Cue the murderous glare.

Playtime was over.

"Have a nice nap?" I asked him, putting my hand on my hip over in my corner.

He merely snarled in response, crouching down into a pounce. I had really made him mad.

Good. He'd make more mistakes that way.

Hopefully.

The bell dinged for the start of the third and final round. Whoever won this, won the whole challenge. They would be the victor.

No pun intended. Victor would not be the victor.

I'd see to that.

We circled each other wearily, trying to judge and predict what the other would. Victor eyeballed my stance that mimicked his own. He bared his teeth slowly; it wasn't even a smile, it was a warning of what was to come.

My marks raced in anticipation.

Without warning, Victor dropped to all fours and tackled me in the chest, pushing his claws into me. Impaling me.

And let me tell you, impaling hurts. Friends don't impale friends.

Fortunately, this rule was not broken, seeing as Creed and I weren't friends. We were something different. More vivid.

I crashed to the ground with a growling Victor on top of me, and I managed to fit my legs between our chests. Then I pushed out, pushing Creed off of me and his claws out of me.

It hurt like hell.

Moaning, I slowly straightened up to find a large fist flying towards me. I quickly blocked it, but skid backwards from the impact. In return, I fired out a kick to his shins which didn't even make him flinch.

Stupid high pain threshold.

He slashed out with claws fully extended. I dodged to the side, but his other hand had come up and sliced my outstretched hand. I hissed and sent a punch that cracked his own nose, causing it to bleed into his mouth.

Victor didn't stop. I had pushed him too far. He was too far gone.

A well-placed kick threw me off my feet, and I crumpled to the ground in surprise. Quickly, before he could pounce again, I vaulted back to my feet and backed away to my side.

I needed to strategize.

Victor glared at me with an animalistic look. Breathing heavily, he tore off his shirt as if it were annoying him. His chest was glistening with sweat.

It was hard to look away. This so wasn't fair.

I frowned to myself. Might as well fight fire with fire.

Thinking this thought repeatedly, I took off my own wifebeater, revealing my black sports bra underneath. If I was distracted, so would he.

Fairness. Don't you love it?

His eyes were raking over me, and I knew that he was definitely distracted. It made me feel slightly self-conscious but…pleased?

Shaking my head, I cleared all thoughts and got my head back into the game. My mind was wandering to Plan X. I wondered if I should use it.

Aw, what the heck. Why not?

Stalking closer to Victor, his eyes stayed glued on my body.

Honestly, I don't know what he was staring at. I felt sweaty and gross, but to each his own.

Creed tensed as I got closer, and swung out a clawed hand when I got in range. Luckily for me, I caught it.

Turning it over, with my eyes locked on his, I lowered my face and kissed his palm gently.

Victor froze.

Slowly, I kissed each and every one of his five fingertips, and then I crept closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

His eyes were wide with shock as I leaned my head up to his. His head started to lower. We were only a couple inches away.

Now.

I headbutted Victor with all the strength I could muster. He fell over, dazed, and I kicked him in the chest, making him fly backwards. I went over to his body.

"One." I said, stomping on his arm, breaking it. "Two." I stepped on his fingers, hearing many pops. Victor groaned, almost coming to. "And three." I smirked down at him.

The bell dinged for the final time. I had won.

I had won! I was the winner of the challenge!

The cheers from the crowd were deafening, and I could see Rouge and Logan roaring in approval at the front. A warm feeling bloomed in my chest.

At the sound of several pops, I looked down to see Victor's angry eyes looking back up at me.

I narrowed my own. "So who wears the pants in the relationship, I wonder?" I held out a hand to help him up.

He ignored it and rose to his feet on his own, glaring at me.

"Don't be a sore loser." I said, smirking. "You're just mad that you didn't win fair and square."

A low growl rose in his throat. "Oh, I wouldn't say you won fair, Stripes."

"You're just angry that you didn't think of it yourself." I puffed up proudly. "And technically, this was Rouge's idea. So two girls bested you today."

Victor started to shake, probably in fury. He started to turn away.

"Victor…" I rolled my eyes. "Don't be a big baby."

I reached for his arm, which he jerked away quickly.

"Don't." He growled. "Touch me."

I sighed. His pride had been hurt too much by this challenge.

Men.

Still sighing, I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around him in a hug. He stiffened at the contact at first then loosed up, wrapping his own arms around me. Our scents mingled.

Everything felt…right.

I wasn't willing to admit that. Ever.

We slowly separated, looking each other in the eye.

"Now." I grinned. "Are you ready to congratulate the winner on her awesomeness yet?"

"Something like that." He murmured, and then I was somehow put into a fireman's hold over his shoulder and screaming. He walked in the opposite direction from the crowd.

"Viiiiiiictorrrr! My fans!"

"Screw your fans; you have me."

"I hate you!"

"No, you don't."

Somehow I couldn't respond to that comment.

And that's how I ended up beating on his back the whole way back to the mansion.


	10. Lust and Doubt

You guys rock; you're the best readers ever! Thanks so much for all your support! So keep feeling free to express yourself via question, comment, and concern. As usual, Tate belongs to me. Enjoy.

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Victor had been acting weird the past couple of days after the challenge. He seemed to be brooding in random places and stealing glances at me whenever he could. It seemed that every time I paused in the hallway, I could look to the nearest alcove and see him staring back at me.

It was a tad creepy.

So, after two long days of it, I decided to call him out on it. After all, I didn't want him to be creeping on me tomorrow; it was my birthday.

And one of my personal policies is to always have a no-creeper birthday. It made the day better, I often found.

"Creed!" I shouted as I was walking down the hall to lunch. I could smell that Victor was in the vicinity, but I just couldn't spot him for the life of me. "I know you're there, you big stalker. Come on out; this is getting stupid."

A large figure suddenly dropped from the nearest bookshelf gracefully. Victor, himself, lounged against it.

"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow.

I gave him a look. You know, one of _those _looks. "Do you not have anything better to do than follow me around all day?"

Point-blank questioning. I like it that way.

"No." He said simply, picking at his nails. "The rest of the frails in this school annoy me."

"Well, you're annoying _me._"

"So?" He growled.

"So go away!" I threw up my hands in the air. "Go pick a fight with Logan! Go do something! I'm really not that interesting of a person."

My marks were spinning in irritation. 12:34 P.M. Seventy degrees. No wind chill.

Duh, we were inside. Sometimes I questioned my marks' intelligence.

He stared at me, watching. He did not respond.

"Why are you just staring at me?" I shrieked. "What's your problem, Creed? Choking on a furball or something? Why don't you get the message and just go _away_!"

Victor looked at me with hooded eyes. And chuckled to himself.

Chuckled. This man was getting on my last nerves.

"_Why_," I hissed, striding forward to poke him in the chest. "_are you laughing at me_?"

My finger was now poking a chest of solid muscle. I ignored it, or rather, tried as hard as I could.

Victor smirked with his canines. "You're cute when you get worked up, Stripes."

Cute? _Cute?!_

I hissed and threw a fist towards his smug face, wanting to wipe off all traces of his bravado.

Not even blinking, he caught it. His large hand wrapped entirely around mine, and his claws soon dug into me. Creed looked at me with an amused expression. "It's not going to happen again."

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I attempted to loosen my hand, but Victor held tight. Angry now, I kicked his shins, all my fighting technique gone out the window. I was steaming mad.

Victor's grin widened as he fended off all my blows, and before I knew it, my back was slammed against the wall and his body was covering mine.

I could feel every inch of him, pressed into me.

I growled as he held my wrists over my head in one of his hands. This day was certainly not what I expected it to be.

"Let. Me. Go." I glared at him, trying my hardest to imagine multiple daggers going into his brain.

Not that he had one.

"And why would I do that?" Victor said smoothly, looking down at me. "My mate has been ignoring me for the past couple of days and I'm feeling _horribly _neglected."

"I am not your mate!" I screamed. "Why don't you get that into your stupid, fat head, you idiotic feral?"

"Now, now, Stripes, you shouldn't lie." He grinned nastily. "I can smell it when you do. Now I'll have to punish you."

I squirmed even more. "Victor, let me g—"

And words failed me.

Victor had bent his head down and pressed his lips to my throat, right on my scar.

I stilled, gulping. My neck seemed to be on fire.

Slowly, he peppered kisses around my neck, moving from my throat to my collarbone back up to my jawline nonstop. My knees were shaking, and my breathing was haggard. I still wasn't sure what was exactly going on.

But my body liked it. My mind was hazy, and tried to disagree. Unfortunately, it couldn't.

Meanwhile, Victor's free hand had migrated behind me, and had slowly snaked up my back, slipping beneath my shirt. He dragged his claws down my back, and I hissed from the feeling.

I could feel rivulets of blood running down my skin, but the wounds healed quickly in their wake.

Instinctively, I arched my back, pressing myself further into him. Creed growled in approval.

His mouth slowly tore itself from my neck and travelled up to right beside my ear, blowing hot air into it. I shivered at the feeling.

"Now tell me." he whispered, huskily. "What do you want for your birthday?"

I gradually turned my face towards his, and we both breathed in a jagged tandem. I'm sure my face showed how confused I was. My mind and my body were fighting again.

I stared at him, conflicted.

"Don't fight it." He murmured. "Just follow your instincts. Tell me what you want, Stripes."

My nickname sounded like a purr when he said it.

My eyes darted all over his face, taking in his scruffy sideburns to his gleaming gray eyes. It was a nice face.

A perfect face.

His claws traced circles into my back.

I felt overwhelmed. It was too much.

Way too much.

My marks were too excited.

"I want…" I began, trying to get my breathing under control, "you to…"

"Yes?" He rumbled, anxious. His claws dug into my back deeper.

"Let go." I finished, panting from the effort. Our bodies reacted too much to each other. It was…dangerous.

We were dangerous.

His face froze, and then fell into a blank slate. His hands released me, and he stepped away.

I staggered back against the wall, leaning for support. I felt like I'd lost a limb.

Something was just…missing.

Victor's eyes hardened and his lip curled. "Now you know how I feel every day. Think about it."

And then he strode off, disappearing into an unknown hallway.

I slid down the wall, landing my butt on the wood floors.

What the hell was that? And why did I get this niggling feeling in the bottom of my stomach telling me that I had given him the wrong answer? What was Creed playing at?

I groaned and rested my head in my hands.

What the _hell _was going on?

I felt like I didn't even know myself anymore. Like I was a stranger.

Who _was _I?

"You like you need some ice cream."

Startled, I glanced up from my curled position and saw the little Jones kid staring down at me. His large glasses were perched on his nose as usual, and his dirty blonde hair shined in the florescent light.

"Yeah." I croaked, and proceeded to clear my throat. "I think I do."

His large eyes magnified by his glasses flickered over me. "Follow me." He said, turning, without seeing if I was following him.

I jumped up and followed. This kid knew what he was doing. He looked like he knew who he was.

After all, he was Jones. The clicker.

So that's how I ended up lounged on the sofa eating chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream with Jones, watching Animal Planet. It was very relaxing and comfy.

I totally understood why he did this all day.

Occasionally, Jones blinked and changed the channel, but I always bopped him on the head and made him turn it back. I liked animals.

He still giggled a bit every time I did that, contrasting with his serious persona.

He was a good kid.

The TV blared on, doing a special about wolves. "Wolves," the British narrator said in a snooty voice, "mate for life. They are very unique animals in the fact that which they remain faithful to their mates throughout their whole lifespan, never straying to go to another. The gray wolf, in particular, has qualities that…"

I bopped Jones' head, changing the channel. Like I needed to hear more about…

Mates.

I had just managed to get the issue out of my head for a little bit. I didn't want to revisit it.

The TV was now on a cooking show, showing some unknown chef make beef tip roasted asparagus…or something like that.

Ew.

"So." Jones spoke for the first time since we'd entered the TV room, not looking at me. "Where's your stalker?"

My throat clenched up. "Excuse me?"

He blinked, turning the TV to an infomercial. "Sabretooth? Why's he not with you?"

"Why would you ask that?" I frowned, staring ahead. "It's not like we're joined at the hip or something. I can do things on my own and so can he. We're two separate people."

"Are you?" Jones asked simply. He blinked again to change it to an exercise routine.

I think it was _Insanity. _Yeah, those people were insane.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

He blinked again, not answering. PBS now. Oooh, it was Arthur.

"Jones." I growled. "Answer me. What is that supposed to mean?"

He finally turned to look at me, giving me a slightly curious stare. "You don't get it, do you? No, you don't _see _it, Tate. Everyone can see it but you."

"See _what_?" I nearly about screamed. "What am I not seeing here?!"

"You've changed." Jones said matter of fact-ly. "Ever since Sabretooth came here, you've been more passionate, more outspoken. It's different."

"He annoys me." I pouted. "He _provokes _me."

My marks swirled lightly in agreement. Or what I at least thought was agreement.

Maybe it was disagreement.

Traitors.

"He challenges you." Jones countered, sounding very mature. How old was he again? "He makes you think. Why do you think you hang around him so much?"

"I don't! He hangs around me! He's the one who's always following me and stalking me and watching me! He's the creeper here!"

"Then why did you issue him that challenge?"

Dead silence. My mind whirled as I tried to remember my thinking in which had lead me to challenge him. I had just wanted to…

Get a rise out of him.

Watch his cocky smirk form.

Fight him.

Touch him.

Stare at him.

Beat him.

Feel him.

I gaped, feeling all my emotions rush into me. It couldn't be possible. I thought it was just my feral side, but…

I couldn't possibly like Victor.

My eyes bulged, and Jones smiled a little at bit at my expression. He settled himself back comfily into the couch, blinking again. "My work here is done."

I rose, shakily and ruffled the kid's hair. "Thanks, Jonesy."

And then I ran.

Up the stairs.

Down a hall.

Took a left.

Up more stairs.

And to the right.

Finding myself in front of one super ominous door. Gulping, I picked up my courage and barged in.

I didn't bother to knock. He didn't bother with any manners, so neither did I.

"Victor, I-I,m—" I practically shouted as I entered and then froze at the scene in front of me. I swear my heart dropped like a stone in my chest, ripping all my organs in half. My hair stood up.

Some blonde woman wearing white lingerie was straddling _my _Victor, who was currently without a shirt. They had their hands all over each other on his bed, but had both looked up when I'd stormed in.

They both had sex hair. Or what looked like it.

"Stripes." Victor's eyes narrowed, malicious. "What a pleasant surprise. You're just in time to meet Emma." He placed his hands on Emma's waist and rotated her so she could see me.

"Oh, hello." She drawled, looking me up and down, all the while stroking Victor's chest. "You must be Tate. I'm Emma, Emma Frost. I've heard so much about you."

By now, I was shaking. With anger. With pain. With regret.

With hate.

And I knew he could smell it all.

Faithful, right. I don't _think _so.

My marks flared, spinning in rage. If I was a cartoon character, I swear steam would be coming out of my ears.

"So." Victor lazily raised an eyebrow. "What did you interrupt us for again?"

I steeled my jaw, keeping my eyes on Emma.

Emma demma. Emma gemma. Emma lemma.

"Get off of him." I sneered, cocking my hip out. "Now, before I tear your throat out."

Emma blinked slowly, trying to be sultry. Then she glanced at Victor. "She's not serious, is she?"

Creed looked puzzled by my behavior, as if he had expected to me run off at the first sight of them. "Probably." He answered, his eyes narrowed.

I stalked closer to the pair. My feral side grew, and my mind transitioned into thinking that she was the prey and I was the predator.

And she had just touched my mate.

Mine.

I snarled and lunged forward, yanking her forcibly off of him and onto the ground. She shrieked and stumbled to her feet, glaring at me. Her dainty lingerie looked like it was about to fall off of her.

Too bad. So sad.

"You bitch!" Emma screamed. "Now you're dead!"

Immediately, she turned into diamond. I'm not kidding; she was a solid, human-shaped, moving, sparkling rock.

Bleh. Who'd want to be a rock?

"Oooh, I'm scared." I growled sarcastically. "Sparkle Girl's gonna get me. Oh, no."

Hissing with anger, Frost ran towards me, fist raised in anger. Ready to punch my lights out.

Oh, honey, you think you're angry? You haven't seen angry yet.

She punched pathetically, to which I dodged, and I sent back my most powerful kick I'd ever given. A kick full of anger, pain, hatred, and loathing. A kick full of passion.

My foot hit her midsection. And her flawless diamond skin…cracked.

I heard it. She heard it. Creed heard it.

Emma stared down at the hairline crack that kept spreading and spreading…until she turned back to normal, gasping for air. She clutched her stomach weakly. I swear her undergarments were barely hanging on her.

Slut. Who just wears that around?

"Leave." I snarled. "Now."

This time, she actually complied. Limping towards the door, she gave me a deadly glare, and then slammed the heavy door behind her. She looked pissed.

Oh, who cares?

Yup, that's no one.

My marks practically skipped in excitement.

I turned to the other occupant in the room, whom was reclining on his bed, watching me with hooded eyes. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I walked around the bed and stood in front of him.

Hands on my hips. That's the way for business.

"Why?" I said coldly.

Why, indeed.

I needed explanations. Now.

He was mine and nobody else's. I wouldn't share.


	11. Things Aren't What They Seem

Hey guys, you've been awesome as always! So keep expressing yourselves through questions, comments, and concerns. As usual, Tate belongs to me. Enjoy.

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"Why?"

My one-worded question hung in the air ominously. This time Victor was the one in trouble.

My marks were rotating swiftly, eager for his answer, eager to find a chance to attack him.

And I have to say, I felt the same way.

Duh.

It's not every day you find your _mate _canoodling with a girl made of diamond. Besides, I feel like that'd be uncomfortable.

I mean, diamonds? Seriously?

Lame.

Though I suppose it'd be handy if you were broke. Just chop off a toe or something and sell it…

That sounds very tempting, actually. I'm feeling a little broke.

Victor creased his eyebrows and shook his head a little. "Why what?"

"_Why what?_" I began dangerously, stalking towards him on the bed. "Are you seriously asking me that, idiot? You _know _what you've done, you bastard."

Now I was standing right beside his bed, to which he was reclining on.

Rubbing his head, Creed growled. "No, Stripes, I don't. My head feels like it's about to explode right now, and I have no idea what you're talking about. What the f*ck are you talking about?"

That's when my feral side kicked in. Again.

For the second time today.

Victor really was making me more animalistic.

I launched myself at him, knocking him over on his back, straddling him as usual.

Why is this such a familiar position? It really shouldn't.

"You slept with that diamond bitch." I emphasized my anger by digging my nails into his bare chest. I smiled cruelly as he bled. "I suggest you stop denying it, it's getting annoying. I know what I saw."

Victor frowned gruffly. "I would never do that."

"I saw _you_, Creed!" I shrieked, tearing more at his chest. "I saw you on top of her! Stop with the idiotic amnesiac act! I know already! Us being mates doesn't mean anything to you!"

His eyes widened, showing gray iris. "What did you just say?"

I snarled, punching him in the jaw. His head flew to the side, but he quickly righted it to stare at me. Creed's eyes darted over me.

And then we flipped over.

His weight pressed into me, and he pinned down my hands so they were useless.

Darn. I couldn't hit him anymore.

I attempted to knee him in the groin, but his legs had disabled mine from moving.

Double darn.

"Did you just admit that we're mates?" Victor traced my jaw with a claw, his eyes focused on mine.

"Not that it matters." I hissed, spitting in his face. "I won't be leftovers, Creed. Go back to Sparkle Girl."

He growled lowly, leaning his face closer to mine. "I'm telling you, Stripes, that I don't _know _what the _hell _you're talking about. All I remember is kissing you and then coming back here to my room to sleep. Nothing happened between then."

I huffed. "Well, I just came in here a few minutes ago and found you fondling a certain Emma Frost. I'm pretty sure I know what I saw."

Victor stilled. "Did you say Emma Frost?"

"Yes." I growled. "She even had the audacity to introduce herself to me."

A sultry laugh rang out in the room, echoing off all the walls.

"So you _do _remember me, Victor?" Said Emma Frost crept into the room, smirking. She threw her hair over her shoulder. "Well, except our latest liason, that is. I saw to that."

"What did you do?" Creed snarled, hovering over me, as if to protect me. "What did you do to me?"

"Oh, nothing much." She strutted to the center of the room. "Just tampered with your mind a bit. Let's just say that dream you had wasn't exactly a dream."

I swallowed, feeling sick. "You dreamed about her?"

"No." Victor's gaze fell back to me, searing into me. "I dreamed about you."

I stared back at him, not sure of what to think.

"I am brilliant, aren't I?" Emma flipped her blonde head of hair again. "I simply made you believe, dearest Sabretooth, that I was your darling mate. Illusions are so much fun. There's so much that one can put into an appearance."

"So you made him _sleep_ with you?" I hissed at her.

"Oh, I didn't have to _force _him to do anything." She smiled mockingly sweet. "You should really know the amount of power you have over your mate, it's…delicious."

I snarled, trying to push Victor off of me. He stayed solid, not moving.

Yeah, some power.

"Besides," she continued, looking at her nails idly. "I didn't have sex with him. Unlike some people, I can't heal instantaneously. I don't like it _that_ rough, as farfetched as that seems."

I growled at her. "Yeah, how's your side, Sparkle? You seem to be hunched over a bit."

Victor looked down at me curiously, and then glanced over to Frost who now rubbed her side gently.

"Perfectly fine." She simpered back.

Ha, I bet it hurt like heck.

"You finished now, Frost?" Victor rumbled dangerously. "Because the next time I see you or anywhere close to my mate, I'll rip your telepathic throat out."

"You would, wouldn't you?" She sneered, cocking her hip out. "Unfortunately, I don't think that _Xavier _would like that, Victor. You're looking at the new teacher for English 101."

"And why would he let your shiny ass in?" Creed cocked an eyebrow. "You try to tamper with his mind too?"

"No." She rolled her eyes. "As if I could. Apparently, he's big on second chances here, seeing as you're here in the first place. Besides, I figured it was time to settle down and perhaps get revenge on a certain sadistic feral."

Victor chest vibrated, revealing his inner anger. "You could try."

"Oh, I've already succeeded once." Emma smirked. "You have an exceptionally susceptible mind, Sabretooth, I suggest you remember that…if you can."

"Try to do it again," I shifted my head to look her in the eye, menacingly. "And I'll just be the one ripping your throat out. Don't mess with us, Sparkle."

Chuckling, Emma Frost flaunted away in her lingerie, out the door. "We'll see, sweetie."

The door shut quietly.

Click.

Me and Victor turned to look at each other, searching each other's eyes.

"So." I said quietly. "You don't remember being with her? At all?"

"Stripes." He stared back at me intensely. His claw traced the scar on my throat. "All I remember was dreaming about being with _you_, and then having someone interrupt us. That pissed me off."

"And, ironically," I chuckled. "that was me. I interrupted you and…myself in a way. Except I saw something a little different. Huh."

This mental illusion thing was confusing.

"Mmmm." Victor rolled to the side, and wrapped his arms around me, engulfing me in his scent and warmth. My hands, now being free, wrapped themselves in turn around him, making us into one big horizontal hug.

I buried my face in his chest. "I'm glad none of that was real."

Creed's hands slipped under my shirt, and his claws began to trace little circles into my waist. "The only thing I wish had been real was my dream."

"You mean the illusion Sparkle Girl gave to you?" I scoffed. "Please. The real thing is so much better than anything she can cook up in your mind."

Victor rocked his head back to look me in the eye. He was smirking. "You want to test that out, Stripes? The 'illusional you' seemed very…experienced."

"Screw you."

"That's what I was getting at."

I snorted, ducking my head back into his chest. Pressing my ear to his skin, I could hear his heartbeat.

Beating in tandem with mine.

It didn't scare as much anymore.

"Why does Frost want revenge on you?" I kept listening to his heartbeat.

Thump, thump.

Thump, thump.

He swallowed, sighing. "I might've killed one of her boyfriends she was fond of once. He was a dick and pissed me off."

"So you killed him." I stated.

"Would it help if I said he was part of a governmental unit that rounded up mutants for experimentation?"

"Maybe."

"Huh." His claws went up higher and higher, reaching my upper back. I snuggled farther into him when he let them drag down lightly. It felt…good.

"Did you mean it?" Victor growled suddenly. "When you told me that you'd accepted that we were mates?"

I paused for a second. "Maybe."

"I'm going to need a little more than that, Stripes."

For some reason, I felt reluctant to admit to the revelation that had occurred in my head.

"I just…" I started, and nervously followed a trail of hair on his chest with my finger. "Feel like it's more likely, I guess."

The trail of hair kept going down.

And down.

And down

Until…

My eyes widened as Victor's hand stopped me, just as my finger had reached the top of his pants. Oops.

Wrong trail to follow! Wrong trail!

"More likely?" He smirked amusedly down at me. "I'd say it's looking certain, Stripes, at the rate you're going."

"Shut up." I murmured, snatching my hand back. "I'm just glad you didn't sleep with Frost, that's all."

"Because you were jealous?" His eyes gleamed.

"Because you don't belong to her." With that said, I rested my head back onto his chest, and my eyes drooped. It had been a long day.

Very stressful.

Tedious.

And full of emotions that I didn't want to necessarily say out loud.

"So who do I belong to?" Victor's voice whispered in my ear.

It was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.

With a smile on my face, of course.


	12. Birthday Morning Wake Up

Hey guys, you all are awesome! Feel free to express your opinions, questions, comments, and concerns. As usual, Tate belongs to me. Enjoy.

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The feeling of bare skin on bare skin woke me up.

This was not a common occurrence.

Actually, it was very rare.

In fact, if this feeling had been a species of animal, it would've been in the dangerously threatened, almost extinct category.

Kind of like if you resurrected a dinosaur and let it be the last one of its species. Again.

Just saying.

Yawning widely with my eyes still closed, I felt a large hand rubbing circles on my stomach, warming it. The soothing motion was only added to by the occasional claw that scraped lightly down my skin, causing me to shiver. More claws joined in once my reaction had been registered.

Wonder who the clawed hand could belong to? Three guesses.

Nah, I just needed one.

Groaning, I reached to stop the hand when it darted away from me, trailing slowly down my side…

To my hip…

To my upper leg…

To my knee. Which was suddenly picked up and wrapped around a certain person's waist.

Now it was bare skin on fabric.

My eyes jerked open. I was the one with bare skin; my legs weren't covered at all.

Where were my pants? I swear I had been wearing them! I didn't just randomly go taking them off!

Pants!

The alert ran through my brain endlessly.

Pants, pants, pants. They were, simply, a must.

Duh.

Hot breath flooded my ear, and a husky voice soon joined it. "Happy birthday."

I immediately ignored the warmth in my chest at that statement, and turned my head to face my assailant head on. Frowning, I observed his ultra-smug smirk of the morning, and duly noted that even Victor Creed could get a little bedhead.

It was possible.

And sexy.

Ugh. I need to censor my thinking in the mornings.

Looking down briefly at myself, I saw that I now wore a familiar oversized black shirt that was now pushed up to above my stomach.

Thank God, I was wearing underwear.

I growled and pulled the shirt down, commencing my glare-a-thon with Victor himself.

"What," I stared hard at him, wanting to burn him to a crisp. "Exactly am I wearing?"

I was trying to be as calm as possible.

Internally, I was freaking out. All I remember was falling asleep on Creed last night.

_Fully dressed._

He smirked some more, this time with fang. "I do recall someone getting very _hot _last night and moaning in her sleep about wanting to take it all off." He chuckled darkly, continuing. "You kept pulling at me, so I just had to oblige. It was very…"

"Disturbing?" I suggested, gaping. I couldn't have acted like that.

How could my body betray me like that?

How _could_ it?

"Satisfying." He finished, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "Let's just say I didn't see anything that I didn't like."

I froze. Realization set in.

Victor Creed had seen me practically naked.

A combination of embarrassment, anger, and pleasure came at me all at once, frying my emotional circuits. It was very confusing, as always, and just plain frustrating.

I didn't know what road of action to take.

"Besides," Victor added, leaning his forehead against mine as if in a secretive manner. "I like the matching panties and bra. It's cute."

My eye twitched. And I started to lose it.

My matching sets were only for _me _to know about.

Not _Creed._

Let's just say I was a bit anal about what went under my clothes.

"You saw me naked!" I screamed, going for the kill. I beat on his chest and attempted to punch him in the jaw several times. "You pervert, I'm going to _murder_ you!"

Despite me getting a few epic right hooks in, Creed chuckled. Amused.

This angered me even more.

I flipped us to get a better angle in hitting his face.

"Is it going to be before or after I give you your birthday gift, I wonder?" He snarkily replied, grinning at my furious expression from on top of him. His hands climbed up my legs onto my waist, fitting perfectly in my curves.

I hesitated, my fist halted. "It's my birthday."

Oh. I'd forgotten.

"And I'd already mentioned that." He rumbled, his claws scratching me lightly. "So, congratulations, Stripes, you can _legally_ do anything you want to do now."

A sly look grew on his face, and abruptly, his hips bucked up, leaving me to bounce on top of him. "And that _does_ mean anything."

The look he was giving me was smoldering.

I growled at him, ignoring the feeling that sparked between his hips and mine. The need and urge to attack him or worse was growing within me, so I jumped off him to the other side of the bed, leaving him against the headboard.

It was better this way. Even if I had admitted to myself that he was my mate, I felt like I could never admit it to Victor.

That would just make it too…real.

Permanent.

Binding.

"Scared, Stripes?" Creed growled, staying at his end of the bed. He locked eyes with me from beneath his lids. I swear they glowed. "Promise I'll make the first time rough like you like it."

I gave him a sickly sweet smile in return, crossing my arms. "Too bad they're never be a first time, sweetie. As if I'd ever sleep with you."

"You just did."

"Funny. I didn't expect to spend my birthday arguing with you."

"About sex?" He looked hopeful.

"About anything." I sighed, narrowing my eyes at him. "Can't I have a hassle-free day for once?"

Creed gave me a long look, appraising me. He was currently sprawled out on his bed, propped up by the headboard. One of his clawed hands ran down the wall, scraping long scratches into it.

"I suppose." Victor dug his claws deeper into the wall. "Since it's your birthday, I'll try to control myself. Just be aware that tomorrow, you're fair game."

"And what does that mean exactly?" I smelled something _very _fishy.

He shrugged, his fangs glinting. "Fair game, Stripes. Take it or leave it."

My marks swirled anxiously. Seventy-eight degrees. 8:23 A.M.

"Promise?" I held out my hand to him, to shake on it.

Instead, he crept forward and took it with his free hand, bringing it up to his mouth.

"Promise." His eyes stared straight at me as his lips kissed my hand.

How sweet.

And then he bit it, drawing blood.

Oh, how quickly the sweetness dies…

I glared and attempted to yank my hand back, but his grip was holding firm. He extended his other hand to me, palm up.

"Blood promise." He growled. "Bite on it. It's the strongest oath I can give you."

"What is _wrong _with you?" I murmured, but still took his hand and brought his palm up to my mouth. "I hope this hurts, idiot."

And with that, I sunk my teeth into Victor's palm, tasting the bitter copper of his blood. Keeping my eyes on him the whole time, I had hoped to see even a flash of pain go across his face, but instead all I saw was a burning possessiveness as his gaze drank in the situation.

He was such a masochist.

Grunting, I released my bite and let go of his hand. Both of our wounds were barely still open, but before they closed, Victor took them both and rubbed them together, smearing our blood into one another.

A strange feeling wriggled inside me as I looked at our combined blood. It seemed…

Never mind.

Our wounds healed completely, just leaving our shared blood on each other.

"It's done." Creed pronounced, looking greedily pleased at the sight of our joined hands. I got the feeling that this had meant something entirely different to him than it had to me.

"It was just a promise." I took back my hand and wiped it on his shirt, cleaning off the blood. "Don't get so excited, Creed."

He slanted a look at me, a sly smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Why so nervous?"

Because of the freakishly obsessed look on your face right now?

Or the answering roar within me that was struggling to get out?

Oh, no reason to be nervous, none at all. It's not like you look like we just got bound to each other for life or anything.

No reason.

No reason at all.

I refused to respond and got off the bed, straightening his shirt on me. "Where are my clothes?"

"Gone." He deadpanned, still lounging. "Did you honestly think that I'd give you a chance to change out of _my _clothing? Besides, I can't wait to see the looks you get when you sneak out of _my _room wearing _my _shirt. Scandal in the mansion."

I rolled my eyes. "And you think that I'd fall for that?"

Shaking my head, I made my way to the other side of his room and opened the window. Slightly cloudy with a twenty-four percent chance of showers. Not likely.

I could feel his eyes on me, watching what I'd do next.

"Nice try." I smirked at Creed, and climbed out the window. "But I'm part feral too."

That's when I made my epic exit, letting go of the ledge, and promptly dropped to my lower level window of my own room. Conveniently, it was only a few stories right below Victor's.

Slightly worrying, but handy.

I might just have to remember that.


	13. Win-Win

Hey guys, y'all are awesome as always, and I love your support! Feel free to express your questions, comments, and concerns. Tate belongs to me. Enjoy.

And yes. This is a long chapter. Yay!

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Soon after I'd escaped Creed's lair, I enjoyed my birthday to the fullest. Everyone in the mansion bombarded me with birthday wishes, and I got a load full of cards in addition to that.

I even got this cute one from Jones. It was in the shape of a TV.

Heehee.

However, as soon as she saw me, Rouge had forced me to wear a gold foil crown, threatening me that if I took it off, she would put me in a coma for the next year and force me to wear a tiara for my next birthday.

I really hate tiaras. So girly.

So, as a good and obedient friend, I obliged her request and spent the rest of the day masquerading as the birthday queen, waving in the royal way to all my good X-citizens.

You know, the wave where your hand barely moves? Almost like you're rotating your wrist while your hand is vertical?

Yeah, that wave. I was an awesome queen.

Plus, Logan even let me get out of a danger room session. I bragged to the other unfortunates who were not exempt from the exercise and said it was because he didn't want the queen to dirty her hands.

Logan, being Logan of course, heard this and retorted that it was only because he didn't want the queen to be whining about a broken nail for the next eighteen hours.

I stuck my tongue out at him for that. He laughed and said it wasn't queen-like.

I had been really tempted to take off my crown then, but promptly remembered Rouge's threat and carried on with my royal behavior.

Pinky out!

I did not break a nail.

But, the whole day seemed slightly off for some reason, like I was missing something. Something important. Something vital. Something…essential.

It might've been because I didn't see Victor for the whole day, since the incident in his room. It was off putting. I guessed he did keep to his word, staying out of my way and behaving.

That put a weird feeling in my stomach. I wasn't sure if I was happy about it or not.

Finally, though, it was time for the party.

"Everyone, listen up!" Logan barked, stilling the crowd of the cafeteria at dinner. "Anyone invited to Tate's party, go to the lounge. If you weren't, go straight to bed. No arguments."

A series of moans and cheers rose up simultaneously, splitting the students into two groups. Most of the ones that trudged off to bed were the younger ones or the ones that barely knew me. I think I saw one kid poke a forked tongue out at me.

Hey, I had to be selective here.

Grinning, Rouge and I hopped up from our seats and hooked arms to skip to the lounge. Yes, that would be the royal procession. Rouge had declared herself a duchess in my earlier absence.

Blinking, I came into the lounge and gaped. They'd decorated every square inch of the room in colorful streamers, balloons, confetti, posters, and God knows what else. I smiled, loving it all. It was perfect.

So many colors and shapes.

God, I sound like a carnie.

Rouge led me to the center of the room in which sat a gigantic, cartoony throne.

Fit for a queen.

"You've got to be kidding me." I groaned as she practically pushed me down into it and adjusted my crown daintily. "Rouge…"

"Sugar, this is your eighteenth birthday." She grinned, stepping back to look at her finishing touches. "Of course, we're going to make it a big deal. You're _legal_."

"I thought the sixteenth was supposed to be the big one." I said drily behind my big smile.

"We're not conventional, Tate. You should know that by now."

"True." I giggled a rare giggle, and looked up to see everyone crowding around my throne in a circle. Slightly claustrophobic, but it was okay. Comforting even.

Rouge turned to them, holding up her glove-covered hands like a conductor. "Okay, people! A one, two, three!"

And that's when they started singing. Ack.

"Haaaapy birthdaaaaay tooo yoooou!"

I smiled and winced at the same time. Everyone was basically screaming the song in my direction. Feral ears were so not needed right now.

"Haaaapy birthdaaaaay tooo yoooou!"

Another wince. I could see Logan winking from the crowd at me. Also, I spotted the Professor, sporting a very green and red polka-dotted birthday hat upon his very bald head.

Nice. Keepin' it classy, Professor X.

_Why thank you, Tate. _

Oops.

"Haaaapy birthdaaaaay tooo Taaaaate!"

Jean and Scott were singing as normally as possible in the situation. Cyclops's arm was around her waist. From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white.

"Haaaapy birthdaaaaay tooo yoooou!"

I jerked my head to the side, but the white flash had disappeared. A chorus of joyous shouts and cheers, as well as much clapping, overwhelmed my hearing. My marks were curling around my arms anxiously, unable to tell me information within the chaos.

I grimaced a grin, wishing I could shield my ears, and stared as a large yellow cake floated through the crowd toward me, landing obediently on my lap.

I glanced a look at Jean, who gave me an encouraging look back at me.

Looking back at the cake, I saw the fateful eighteen candles, and thought about my wish.

It had to be good. This was the year to do it. Do something big.

Wish for something good.

Taking a deep breath, my eyes darted around the crowd to see the face I wanted but was nowhere to be found. Creed wasn't there. I nearly let out my breath in a sigh. Somehow, the thought was depressing.

Instinctively though, I looked up at the balcony above. Something just wanted my eyes to look there, similar to the time in the cafeteria.

And there, leaning against the rail was Victor Creed, wearing his long, dark coat. He almost nearly blended in with the shadows, but I spotted him with my feral eyesight. His eyes were glowing faintly as he gave me a little wave with his claws.

I nearly choked on my breath of air in surprise. He was here.

He was _here._

Squinting my eyes, I could see him raise an eyebrow and mouth something to me. I tried to look harder to see what word he was trying to convey to me.

Victor's lips twitched. "Blow."

I blinked, realizing that everyone was quiet now, just staring at me. Waiting for me to make my wish. Blow out the candles.

Yes, that kind of blow.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

And so, not to keep everyone waiting, I blew out the candles, focusing on my lucky eighteenth wish.

It was a good one. I was sure of it.

Loud clapping rang out again, and when I looked up, Victor was gone. The cheering and shouting commenced, and soon everyone was in the partying mood. The sound of soda opening and noisemakers flooded the room.

Oh well. I'd just have to see Creed later.

"Hold up, everybody!" Rouge stood on a wayward chair, standing above everyone else. "Before we get all out of control, let's give Tate her gifts!" She pointed to me, staring innocently at her from my throne. "So y'all form a line in front of the birthday girl!"

I gulped.

Feet shuffled, and mutants pushed to get the best spot in line. Much giggling and laughter was involved. I swear the line ended up being a million people long.

Explain that after only inviting twenty-five guests.

Focusing back on the line, I saw that Logan had intimidated his way to the very front, smirking in front of me with a large green present in hand. It had a nice, big, fat, red bow on it.

His smirk reminded me of Creed. These two were more alike than they thought.

"Happy birthday, kid." Logan handed me his gift. "Or should I say Queenie?"

"Kid's fine." I said, eagerly unwrapping it. "But you could always switch it up with Tate or Miss Awesome if you like."

He guffawed, as I finally had revealed his present for the world to see. It was a mini red punching bag with a plastic slot in the middle of it where you hit it. "Niiice. I've always wanted one of these."

"Yeah." He snorted, backing away for the next person to come forward. "I figure when you get really mad at Creed, you can put his picture in there. Might make it easier for you to focus."

My eyes widened as I imagined putting Victor's face in the slot and punching it repeatedly. "I love it! Thank you so much, Logan!"

I sprang up and gave him a hug right there. He looked surprised, but took it in stride, wrapping an arm around me as well. "You're welcome, Tate."

I smiled up at him. "Mixing it up?"

"Yeah."

Logan gave me a pat and went to go sit down and watch the spectacle that was about to unfold.

The spectacle aka 'The Line That Never Ended' literally seemed like it would never end. The people just kept coming and coming, giving me presents, me thanking them, and then they would laugh and the next person would give me a gift. Cue the cycle.

It _never_ ended!

For example, Jean and Scott. They presented me with a bottle of perfume and a helmet.

"Uhh, thank you?" I said, holding both presents in my hands thoroughly confused.

What would you do with a helmet and perfume? Freshen up while biking? Spray and blind people from a moving vehicle?

"We comprised." Scott said.

Jean continued, her red hair perfectly tousled. "We were thinking about your interests. The helmet, Scott's idea, was if you'd ever like to ride his motorcycle, or maybe ride with Logan."

"Oh, really?" I was beaming now. I'd always wanted to ride Cyclops's bike!

"And the perfume is from me." Jean smiled, but there was a glint in her eye. "I specially formulated it in the lab. It's designed to increase the level of your pheromones, making you essentially irresistible to your mate, seeing as you're part feral."

"Oh." I gave her a tight smile, thinking that I would never use it in a billion, ba-jillion, trillion, quadrillion years. "Thanks."

Example number two. The Professor.

He wheeled forward and gave me a small, blue package. Curious, I started to open it.

"I do hope you like it, Tate. I tried my best at choosing the right gift for you." He stared at me calmly, completely contrasting with his wild party hat that still sat on top of his shiny head.

I really wanted to laugh.

_You may, if you wish._

Dammit.

I smiled, ignoring the mental intrusion, and revealed a simple lodestone, marked with unrecognizable symbol on it.

"Wow." I deadpanned. "That is…a rock."

"It says 'serenity.'" Professor X smiled at me. "A quality in which I hope you find some time in your life. However, to save time, I suggest that you press down the symbol before throwing this into the pile of your other presents."

I raised an eyebrow and pressed the 'serenity' symbol. A lock clicked and the top half of the stone slid off, revealing a secret compartment inside that contained…

"A lock-picking set!" I said excitedly, but kept my voice down. "This is awesome! But isn't this kind of against the rules?"

"I expect you to use it judiciously." He explained. "I knew you expressed interest in the art, but I prefer to hand you the tools and decide what to do with them. Just know that I'll know whodunit if the case of a break-in occurs."

"I'll be responsible!" I was wiggling from excitement. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"And in the case that you need a tutor in the subject, I would highly suggest a certain Victor Creed. He certainly does know his criminal activities."

I narrowed my eyes at Xavier, heavily suspicious. "Is this a set up?"

The professor laughed, already wheeling away. "Only if you wish it to be, Tate."

Example number three answered my question about why there were so many people at my party.

Emma Frost.

I happily put away my latest present, carefully stacking it along with the other, when that flash of white hit me again. And again, I jerked up and saw a certain mutant by the name of Emma Frost in front of me.

Not wearing her usual white lingerie. Le gasp. She was wearing a low-cut V neck (white, of course) and some super tight white jeggings. Along with high-heeled white boots.

Guess Professor X demanded some school-appropriate clothing to be worn.

"Why are _you_ here?" I crossed my arms and frowned heavily at her. I seriously didn't like her.

In fact, I hated her.

Despised her.

Loathed her.

Detested her.

Why wasn't I ripping her throat out again?

"Look," she rolled her very blue eyes, "Xavier says I have to play nice. So I am."

"Gosh." I spat back. "That explains a lot. So why are you here? Come to brainwash me this time?"

"Actually, no." Emma said, miffed. "The Professor psychically disabled my telepathic powers for the time being. So, no, I wouldn't have the power to brainwash a gnat. But that's beside the point."

"So what is your point?" I sneered. God, that sounded like such a Victor thing to do.

Sneer. I bet I'd only started doing that since _he _came here.

She leaned down, putting her mouth beside my ear. "To give you a warning, sweetie. Don't get between me and Victor; it's none of your business."

I yanked my head away from her. "It's all of my business. Victor _is _my business."

I felt like I had echoed it from Victor somewhere down the line.

But it was true.

She lazily raised a thin, blonde eyebrow. "Don't play the mate card. I already know that you two aren't together, solely because you yourself won't own up to it. The revenge I'm plotting is for him and him alone. Just stay out of my way."

I stood up, getting even with her. Okay, well, I was shorter, but that didn't matter.

"Just know," I hissed in _her _ear, "the second you touch Creed again, your throat is mine. Stay out of _my _way, bitch."

Emma backed away slowly, giving me a glare. "Don't think this is over, little girl. I've just started."

I let her walk away, and absently noticed that she had been the last one in line.

The last one in line.

The end of the line.

Salvation!

With a swiftness only a feral could achieve, I darted out of the noisy lounge, quickly putting distance between me and all of my guests. There was only so much I could take. My heightened senses were seriously putting me on edge.

With a sigh of relief, I ended up in the TV room. Jones was auspiciously absent, seeing as he'd been one of the ones to be ordered to bed early by Logan. I would've invited him, but the Professor said I could only invite those whose bedtimes allowed them to be up that late.

I didn't even know Jones had a bedtime. I'd never seen him sleep.

Groaning from exhaustion, I flopped down the sofa, sprawling all over it. My birthday had been exhausting yet so totally worth it. It had been a good eighteenth.

My eyes drooped when I heard quiet steps approaching me.

"Thought I'd find you here."

I bolted up into a sitting position so fast it almost made my head hurt. "You."

"Me." Victor smirked, amused at my antics. He was still wearing his black coat. Slowly, he began to saunter over to the couch.

"I didn't see you today." I stared at him as he plopped himself on the couch beside me. "Besides, the balcony, I mean."

"You told me to control myself." He said smoothly, his eyes raking over me. "So that's what I did."

"So you had to disappear from my sight to do that?"

Victor gave me a hard, discerning look. "Would you have liked it if I was there?"

"Yes." The statement came pouring out of my mouth before I could censor or stop it. But it was true. Totally and utterly true. I wish Victor had been beside me my whole birthday.

It was as simple as that.

Creed looked surprised and regarded me in confusion. Scooting closer to me, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a black box. "I got you something."

And _no_, it was _not _a ring box! It was just a black, flat box, about the size of my hand.

"Oh." I said as I took it from his hands. "You didn't have to."

"Yes." He growled back, locking eyes with me. "Yes, I did. Now open the damn thing."

"Impatient, much?" I scoffed as I opened the box and peered inside at Creed's present. "Woah."

Reaching inside, I pulled out a silver-chained necklace on which a large dark claw was hung upon. Eyes wide, I traced the big claw, feeling the sharpness of its point. It was about as long as middle finger and as wide as two fingers.

Mouth gaping, I raised it up by the chain, holding it up to the light. "This is…amazing."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Victor's smug expression. "You like?"

"Yessss." I stared at the beautiful necklace, wondering how it could look so elegant and brutal at the same time. It was perfect. I continued to ogle it with glee. It was mine. My necklace.

With a growl, Victor snatched it from me and quickly unfastened the clasp. I cried in protest, turning to him, wanting my precious new necklace. Rolling his eyes, he put his hands around my neck, holding each end of the claw necklace, making him very close to me.

"I stole this from a museum a long time ago," he breathed, his face leaning down to face mine, "because it caught my fancy. I've been hanging on to it for years, not sure exactly what to do with it."

Creed's fingers nimbly fastened the necklace, but stayed around my neck, then slid down to my shoulders. They were very warm.

"What is it?" I whispered, feeling the need to.

Victor licked his lips. "Ironically, a claw from a real sabertooth tiger. I just thought that if I gave it to you, it would sort of…" He hesitated. "I don't know, dammit. Be giving you a piece of me, I guess."

Creed, for once in his life, looked vulnerable. Victor Creed. Victor f-ing Creed had a tentative look on his face.

My marks were racing eagerly, swirling furiously around my arms.

Seventy-nine degrees. Four hundred twenty-four feet above sea level. 11:58 P.M.

And that's what provoked me to raise myself up on my tippy toes and press my lips lightly to his.

The second our mouths touched, Creed clutched me to him and attempted to take control of the kiss, but I pulled back and put my finger on his mouth.

Teasing was on my agenda.

"Uh uh." I smiled at his bewildered and lust-induced expression. "You have to behave yourself for two more minutes. Til then, I have all the control, mister."

I love making deals with Creed.

Using his growl to my advantage, I smashed my lips back onto his and slipped my tongue in his mouth, exploring. He attempted to fight back and dominate, but I quickly reminded him who was boss by biting his lip.

Chuckling a bit at his annoyed yet satisfied rumble, I extended my arms to wrap around his neck and pulled him down to my level. My fingers attempted to intertwine into his hair, but it was too short, so I just ended up raking down his scalp repeatedly.

However, this caused Victor to vocalize a throaty moan, so I continued to do it.

I felt like I was on fire. It felt right.

The big grandfather clock in the TV room boomed, announcing the start of a new hour, a new day.

It was midnight.

Victor broke from my grasp and smirked down at me, his eyes alight. "My turn."

With that said, he tackled me down into the couch, pressing all of his body into mine. All the while, his mouth attacked mine vigorously, and if I had thought that I was on fire before, this was a nuclear explosion.

His clawed hands went up the back of my shirt and expertly lifted it off me, only to return to sides to stroke them. My own hands were exploring his chest and abs, feeling every indention and crevice there was to him. Despite considering what muscle I had, I had nothing on Victor. He was made of muscle.

I moaned when his mouth migrated from my mouth to up my jawline to ear. He nipped and sucked on my earlobe, causing another groan from me. My fingers raked down his own back, trying to get him as close to me as possible.

After all, he was mine.

Meanwhile, Victor's hands had taken to exploring my own body, lingering over my curves, causing me to shiver.

How could I shiver when I was trying to survive a nuclear attack?

Questions, questions.

Deciding to battle him, I flipped us over and quickly removed his bothersome coat and shirt to which he had no objection to. Swiftly, he pulled me down, pressing our skin together, sparking every nerve in my body. I smiled and bit his neck playfully.

Growling, he flipped us back over, regaining his control. Creed scraped his sharp teeth against my throat but turned it into a kiss and then another and then another. Moving slowly down my body, he kissed his way down my neck, down my chest, and down my stomach.

It was heaven, only more fiery, passionate, and combustible than I'd ever imagined it.

Then he kissed the button of my jeans and brought his hand down to unbutton it.

I froze as if someone had just splashed ice cold water on me.

I wasn't ready for _that_.

Victor immediately noticed the changed and raised his head to look up at me. To see my expression, my reaction.

I quietly shook my head, feeling like my face was beet red.

It was embarrassing but true. I just couldn't do _that _with Victor.

Not now, at least.

Silently, Victor crept back up the sofa so that we were even, and wrapped his arms around me, tucking me into him. I sighed, relieved that he didn't take it personally, and snuggled into him. My new necklace was pressed between both our chests.

"Mine." He murmured, kissing the top of my head.

I hummed in agreement, staking my own claim.

This really had been a great birthday.

Plus, I think my wish had even come true.

And that's a win-win situation, if you ever ask me.


	14. Tick, Tock, Pick, Lock

Hey guys, y'all are awesome! So feel free to express your questions, comments, and concerns all you want. As always, Tate belongs to me. Enjoy.

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"Victor."

I poked his chest.

"Viiiictor."

I poked him again, harder this time.

No response.

Frowning, I bent down from my seat on top of him and put my lips by his ear.

Apparently, this feral was a very heavy sleeper. As much as I loved the peaceful look on his face, I liked him conscious more.

"Viiiiiiictor." I whispered, licking then blowing cold air onto his ear lobe. That should do the trick.

If that didn't wake him up, I don't know what would.

The effect was instantaneous. Creed jumped up with claws extended and collided with me, causing us to roll off of the couch onto the floor. Somehow, I still remained on top, moving up and down with his panting.

I raised an eyebrow at his dilated pupils. "Morning, sleepyhead. Violent, much?"

"Don't do that." He snarled, retracting his claws from their near proximity to my abdomen. "I'm never in a good mood when I wake up."

"Why's that?"

"Because." Creed glared at me, putting his hands on my waist. "I'm not."

Oh, I don't think so. He's wheedled things out of me, now I'm just going to do the same.

This is going to be fun.

"But why…?" I drawled, stroking his abs in a way I knew he liked. His eyes were already glazing over as he stared back at me, and his muscles flexed in approval. They rippled every time I dragged my fingers over them.

Gotcha, sucker. You're mine.

Victor narrowed his eyes, still dazed. "You're using me, Stripes. You're using our bond."

Smiling smugly, I dug my nails in, creating little red trails that healed over a few seconds later.  
"Is it working?"

Making a low sound in his throat, his grip tightened on my waist. "Maybe."

Huh. I'm getting déjà vu of myself with that 'maybe.'

"So." I pressed my chest into his, breathing down on him. "Why are you never in a good mood when you wake up, Victor Creed?"

Rumbling still, he looked longingly at my mouth then darted his gaze back to my eyes. "When I sleep, I have…nightmares."

Hm. Interesting development.

"About what?" I lowered my lips closer to his, taunting him. We were practically breathing the same warm air at this point. It was intoxicating.

"All the wars." His lips almost brushed mine. "All the casualties, the deaths, my past…" He didn't even seem to be aware of what he was saying anymore, he was so focused on my mouth. "My father…"

I pulled away, sitting back up on his chest. "Your father? You have nightmares about _your father_? What did he do to you?"

Growling, Victor sat up, pressing our chests together again. Bare skin hit bare skin, and it was just then that I remembered that I was only wearing a bra and jeans.

Oh, yeah. Last night.

That had happened.

"I don't like being teased or interrogated, Stripes." Creed bared his eyeteeth at me. "I suggest you remember that."

Guess I'd have to get the info out of him another time.

Darn. And I was so close.

Immediately, Victor smashed our mouths together and proceeded to kiss me in a way that should be illegal. I gasped in surprise, and he only used it to his advantage, going deeper into my mouth. It was like he was trying to learn and know it by memory, at least at the rate he was going.

I'd barely begun to kiss back when he nipped my bottom lip and pulled back, leaning his forehead against mine. "Not fun, is it?"

I grumbled unhappily against his forehead. I could feel his hot breath touch my face as he chuckled at my reaction. Clearly, someone was enjoying themselves here.

Okay, so maybe being teased wasn't that fun.

But being the teaser totally was.

Fo' show!

"So." Victor pressed his forehead more into mine so that our eyes were locked on each other. "Why'd you wake me up, when we were having so much fun in the first place?" Slowly, as he said this, his hands drifted farther up my waist, skimming my sides with his claws.

Shivering, I saw him smirk, and I put on my most innocent look.

Big eyes, slightly pouting lip, sad yet hopeful expression. You know.

The works.

"Well…" I smiled. "I was hoping that you'd teach me how to pick a lock today, actually. The Professor got me a kit, and I really want to use it. So…pretty please with a cherry on top?"

Cue the big, bright smile no one can resist.

He blinked, clearly not expecting that to be the reason. Pulling back his head a bit from mine, Victor gave me an incredulous look. "You woke me up for me to teach you how to pick a lock?"

I grinned. "Yup. Why else would I awaken the beast?"

Creed gave me a hard stare, his mutton chops shaggy. "Fine. But on one condition."

"Yay!"

"You haven't heard my condition yet." Deadpanned Creed.

"Fine, what is it?"

"Once I teach you lock-picking, I get to teach you another lesson."

I gave him a weird look at this, knitting my eyebrows together. "Like what?"

The wickedest, naughtiest smirk appeared slowly on Victor's face, leaving no doubt in what department his lesson would be in. My stomach churned in anticipation. Oh.

It would be _that _type of lesson.

I squinted at him. "No sex."

His smirk only widened to show his canines, his fingers massaging up and down my sides. "Such a dirty mind, Stripes. I didn't even mention that."

"Please. You think about it all the time."

"No." His lips were suddenly on my ear, an imitation of how I woke him up this morning. "I think about doing it with _you_ all the time."

My marks swirled a little faster at that.

Four hundred and sixty feet above sea level. Seventy-three degrees. 8:34 A.M.

Creed's scent seemed to hit me all the harder. Surrounding me. Engulfing me.

Agh.

I snorted. "How romantic."

Victor kissed my ear, chuckling again at me. That seemed to happen a lot now.

"Wasn't supposed to be." He cocked a brow at me, getting a more serious look on his face. "So, lock-picking…. Whose room should be our first victim?"

And that's how we ended up outside of Sparkle Girl-Emma Frost's room, fully dressed now. I had debated that we should've started with Logan's, but Victor had quickly nixed the idea, saying that his brother would hear our criminal activity before we even started it.

Hearing that, I tended to agree. Logan really was a do-gooder, contrary to his appearance.

Wolverine on the outside, teddy bear on the inside.

Kind of like an Oreo. But not.

Besides, he wouldn't like Victor teaching me how to pick locks in the first place. Actually, he wouldn't like Victor to have anything to do with me.

Tough luck.

"Now," Victor gestured quietly towards the ominous white door with his long claws slightly out, "this is how we're going to do this. I'll show you what to do, and then you follow my lead. Seeing as the diamond bitch is in there still sleeping herself, we're going to have to be as quiet as possible, so _do not make a sound._"

I mock-frowned at him, whispering. "You make it sound like I'm such a loud person. I _can _be sneaky, you know."

He put a claw under my chin and raised an eyebrow. "When you get frustrated, you get loud and violent; it's a feral trait. So, as much as I like it loud, Stripes, you should channel the frustration elsewhere for now."

"And where would that 'elsewhere' be I wonder?" I said snidely.

His dark smirk told me the answer.

Him.

We'll see about that, mister.

I held up my lodestone of tools to him. "Here. Show me how to do this already, slave. Chop, chop."

Shaking his head at my term, he shook his head and merely held up his hand to me as his claws extended to thin, fine points. Fine enough to fit through a keyhole.

Fine enough to pick a lock.

"Showoff." I muttered, getting closer to him and the door to watch him work his magic. He better be as good as the Professor told me he was at this. That's all I'd say.

Grinning, he inserted two of his claws into the keyhole, moving them gently around. His fingers seemed so precise and yet delicate at the same time as he was cocking his head to hear each tumbler click into place with his enhanced hearing.

Sometimes, being a feral was awesome.

A second and a click later, I saw the door open. It revealed a little stretch of yet more white into darling Emma Frost's room. How plain.

How typical.

"Bravo." I whispered, as he closed the door again and locked it back into place. "But I barely saw you do anything. It kind of makes you hard to copy."

"That's the point." Victor smirked, beckoning me over to the door, in front of him. "It takes a combination of instinct and skill, and, naturally, since I have both, I make it look easy. Now it's your turn."

"So humble." I muttered, slipping into position in front of the keyhole. "Now, what?"

"Seeing as you don't have claws, I'd suggest getting out your tools, babe."

I half-turned to face him, while getting my lock-picking set out. "I'm not your _babe_, Victor."

He looked satisfied, as if he had expected this reaction. Creed crept closer to me, trailing a long claw down my neck. "I know." He growled. "But you're _mine_, Stripes."

Scoffing at him, I turned to focus my attention on the lock.

Who cared if my marks felt like they were about to fly off my skin? Who cared if I was wearing a tank top and Victor could see exactly how fast they were going? Who cared if I could practically feel his smug smirk directed at me?

Who cared?

Hmph.

Focusing on the lock, as well as my instincts, I could hear Frost's deep even breaths coming from the other side of the door. She was sound asleep. An easy target.

Hm. Ideas.

Biting my lip, I put two of my lock-picking instruments into the lock and fiddled them around, turning them this way and that. I wasn't exactly sure of what to do. But all I heard in my feral ears was a horrible scratching sound of metal upon metal. Gritting my teeth, I attempted to move my instruments around even more, hoping to get lucky.

I didn't.

I felt like everyone in the mansion could hear me.

It hadn't sounded this way when Creed had done it; his had been smooth and easy. Mine was…harsh and shrill. Unrefined.

Needless to say, I felt like a failure.

"Okay." I whispered, staring at the foreboding keyhole with my tools still in it. "What now?"

I was so clueless. Victor had made it look too easy.

Chuckling lowly, Victor slid up behind me and pressed himself to my back, slipping his arms around mine, his fingers overlapping my fingers. Immediately, my body temperature rose as a result of being in contact with him. He was…warm, to say the least.

Okay, he was hot.

But that's not the point.

His fingers wrapped over mine, controlling their movements. Our combined fingers moved the tools slightly, pulling them back a bit.

"Take it slow." He whispered through my hair to my ear, his hot breath once again upon me. "Feel the tumblers and what makes them tick. _Listen _to them and give them what they need."

Our fingers adjusted, twisting the instruments this way and that. I heard one click.

"Keep going." Victor continued in an almost inaudible voice. "And go deeper. Understand its puzzle and make it snap."

Our fingers twitched again, and another click was heard.

"Just a little more." Victor growled, and I could feel the vibration of it all throughout my body. "Almost there. _Feel _it at the edge."

The lock clicked a final time, and the door opened. I had done it. Picked a lock.

And I was practically panting from the intensity.

Somehow, I don't think picking a lock with someone else would be the same experience as picking it with Victor.

I smiled and turned, beaming up at him. "I did it—"

And was promptly interrupted by his lips crashing onto mine, ravaging them.

Gasping, I fought back using my mouth and tongue to my advantage and reveled in the feeling of how _right _this felt. Grunting, Victor picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pressing as much of me to him as possible. He growled and slammed my back against the wall, his hips moving against mine roughly.

Grinning through the kiss, I raked my fingers through his hair as his own hands snuck up my sides smoothly.

I felt so alive. On fire.

Complete.

Fiery perfection, to say the least.

How could he not be my mate? It didn't even seem to be a question anymore.

I'd accepted it.

"Well, well, well…" A voice from the doorway drawled. "What do we have here, lurking outside my bedroom, I wonder?"

Victor and I's heads snapped up. Emma Frost was standing at the door, hand cocked on her hip, wearing a very revealing white nighty.

Oops. Apparently we'd forgotten our vow of silence and awoken the kraken.

"I'd say you stopped by for a visit, despite the odd circumstances." Frost continued, raising a blonde eyebrow at our compromising position. She smiled that oversweet smile that seemed too cold to be real. "How convenient."

Oh, it was convenient for her all right.

Too convenient.


End file.
